The Waking Limb Burns With New Life
by Malachi Tamim
Summary: After all Arya has been through she almost certainly has PTSD. This story begins between books 3 and 4, and explains her actions/relationship with Eragon from within a PTSD perspective.
1. Chapter 1

**The Inheritance Cycle belongs to Christopher Paolini. I do not own anything.**

While walking back to her tent from the meeting with Nasuada, Eragon, and Saphira, Arya thought back on the day's events and was amazed how much had happened in such a short time. She had fought in the battle for Feinster, almost died while trying to bring the wall down, been rescued by Eragon and Saphira, killed a Shade, learned of the deaths of Oromis and Glaedr, and been illuminated about the existence of Eldunari. Arya shook her head and thought as she arrived at her tent, _It is no wonder that I am so tired._

She entered the dwelling and whispered, "Brisingr!" to light a candle. In the illumination she glanced ruefully around the small space. The only two items in the room were a cot that could easily be folded up and a small bag of clothes. Arya was still carrying her sword and bow. Of the few tents she had seen, hers and Eragon's were the sparsest. They had been traveling for so long that they now only brought the essentials with them.

Sighing, Arya sat down on her cot and pulled off her Elvin made boots. Without even bothering to undress, she lay down on the cot and waited to fall into her waking dreams. She had hoped that she was exhausted enough to avoid her recurrent insomnia, but unfortunately, that obviously wasn't the case. Sitting up, Arya muttered, "Barzul." She knew what would come next.

Memories started to assail her, and she put her head in her hands, trying to stop them. Every night, Arya was forced to relive all of the losses she experienced over her century-long life. She saw her father, tall and proud, and then her mother coming to tell her he was dead; something she was too little to understand. Next came Glenwing singing to her and Faolin- Faolin. The elf she loved. Both of them lying dead on the ground with a dozen arrows in their bodies. Then Ajihad, Brom, and now Oromis and Glaedr. She remembered running to the dwelling of the ancient rider and his dragon to find comfort after yet another disagreement with her mother. She remembered Oromis' kind face smiling at her as he reassured her. She remembered Glaedr's calming presence. How could they all be gone? Almost everyone she cared about. No. Almost everyone _who cared about her_ except for Eragon and Saphira…

Arya shivered as she remembered earlier in the night, crying in Eragon's arms. It had felt almost…right…to be comforted by Eragon. No. What was she thinking? This was not Arya. Arya was stronger than this. She never expressed her emotions, never even allowed herself to feel them, which, she considered, was probably why she was haunted by the past every night. Regardless, she knew she needed to get control over her emotions.

With a great effort, Arya forced herself to swallow everything she was feeling until she felt the blessed numbness sweep over her. The grief, exhaustion, despair, and fear seemed to fall away, but she knew it would be back, for it was not gone, but rather pushed deep down inside of her. Finally, she was able to lie back down for the second time, and this time she drifted into her waking dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

Arya woke from her waking dreams after a few meager hours of rest. She did not need to sleep as long as humans, but after a grueling day, she required more rest than she had the previous night. She glanced around, trying to determine what had awoken her. There was a shadow of a person at the opening to her tent, and he raised a hand to knock on the wooden support pole of her tent. Arya groaned softly and rolled off of her cot still wearing her leather tunic and leggings, swiftly pulled on her boots, and padded slowly over to the opening. She stepped outside blinking in the glow of the early morning sun.

Eragon stood before her with an air of uncertainty. A royal blue tunic fit snugly on his slim but muscular frame, and his legs were wrapped in leggings so fine that she knew they were of elven make. Arya guessed that he had recently bathed because his light brown hair was still damp. As always, he had Brisingr strapped to his side. Eragon gave her a tentative smile, which she returned, just as unsurely not meeting his eyes.

Eragon's face fell slightly, confused. He didn't think he had done anything wrong, but perhaps he had acted inappropriately by comforting her after she learned of the deaths of his teachers. His confusion flooded through his mental link to Saphira, and she sent him soothing emotions and said, _Worry not, little one. You've done nothing to offend her. Tread carefully for she is like a cornered animal, afraid and unpredictable. _Saphira felt his gratitude radiate through his mind.

All of this occurred almost instantly. Eragon shook his head almost imperceptibly and masked his emotions as he touched his lips in greeting and said, "Nasuada sent me to tell you that there will be a council meeting mid-morning today and we are expected to attend. We need to discuss the Varden's plans now that we have liberated Feinster. Because everyone knows how much we care about how many cows we have." He rolled his eyes in an attempt of humor. He knew it was weak, but he was still pleased when Arya smiled slightly. She nodded her assent and Eragon turned and walked away.

...

Eragon walked into the large tent where the council meeting was held and took a seat to the right of Nasuada. This was the last place he wanted to be less than a day after his mentors had been killed, and as Arya walked in and sat next to him, her face told him that she felt similarly. Her emotionless mask was back in place. Eragon cursed silently –based on her actions of the past couple of weeks, he had thought she was starting to open up. As much as he admired Arya for her strength and control, he loved the Arya beneath the mask even more. Saphira, whose head was resting on the ground beside Eragon her neck poking through her usual flap in the tent, snorted, shaking him from his thoughts.

_Little one, as Arya has said once before, her thoughts are her own. The more you push her to open up, the more she will resist you, _Saphira told Eragon. Eragon, unable to articulate his feelings, closed his eyes and sent a rush of emotions to Saphira. She felt his desire, confusion, frustration, and attraction, but above all, his concern. _Oh, little one, Arya is lucky to be your friend. _

Eragon gave Saphira the mental equivalent of a smile and said, _Like I am lucky to be bonded to you. I just don't know what to do. How can I help her? _

Saphira thought for a few seconds and responded, _I do not know. If she were a dragon, I would suggest you tame her –be in her presence and slowly, very slowly, start to move closer. After each step forward, you would need to stop to let her get accustomed to the new distance. But she is not a dragon. _

Eragon considered that for a moment and said to Saphira, _That's actually not a bad thought. Perhaps dragons and elves are not so diff_—

"Eragon!" a voice cried, making Eragon jump. He looked around and discovered that everyone was staring at him.

"I apologize," Eragon said sheepishly, "Saphira and I were talking." Saphira made a noise that Eragon knew to be laughter and let out a puff of smoke.

Nasuada shook her head and replied, "That's alright. We were just discussing the timeline of when we will leave for Belatona. As you informed us, Thorn is incapacitated due to his injuries and we need to know how long it will be until you think he will be ready to fight again. In other words, would it behoove us to leave immediately so as to avoid having to face Murtagh and Thorn, or would we do better to wait a week to give the Varden time to rest?"

Eragon sat back in his chair and consulted Saphira, _What do you think Saphira?_

_How fast they are able to heal Thorn would depend entirely on how many Eldunari they have. Since we are unable to determine exactly how fast he will be healed, I think it would be better if the Varden waits a week to march, _Saphira analyzed.

_That makes sense, _Eragon replied. "Saphira and I cannot determine how long it would take to heal him, so we believe it would be better to rest."

Nasuada glanced around at the council members to judge their reactions. Everyone nodded their assent. "Okay. Now that we are agreed on that, we must move on to other topics. As you all know, we are running low on supplies…"

Eragon and Arya looked at each other and grinned.

…

Two hours later, the council finally took a break for lunch. Fortunately, Eragon and Arya were not mandated to be there in the afternoon. They walked out of the tent together. After a prompt from Saphira, Eragon said to Arya, "Do you have any plans for this afternoon?" 

Arya cocked her head and gazed at Eragon trying to determine his intentions. Noticing this, Eragon said, "I ask only because Saphira wanted to know if you wanted to come flying with us."

Relaxing slightly, she said, "You honor me. I would be delighted to accompany you."

Eragon bounded up Saphira's body before resting in his usual place on her back. He considered offering a hand to her, but knew she would probably spurn the gesture, and instead waited until she climbed behind him.

Arya greatly appreciated his avoidance of the chivalry he was raised to follow. Nothing bothered her more than being treated like a helpless human female. As she wrapped her arms around Eragon, she felt him tense and then immediately force himself to relax. He reached behind him to strap her legs into the saddle so she would not fall off, and smiled reassuringly at her. She was not sure what to make of the smile, so she stared back at him unflinchingly until he turned back around, refusing to grant him any ground in their relationship.

Saphira looked back at them and said, _Ready little ones?_

_Ready, _they replied.

Saphira let out a roar as she leapt into the air. Eragon sought out Arya's mind and spoke silently, _I hope you don't mind. This is much easier than shouting to one another. _He waited tentatively for her response, when he felt her acquiescence, he continued, _You've flown with us before, but only as a means of transportation. Saphira wanted you to experience what it's truly like to be a Rider._ Saphira roared joyfully in agreement with his words as she executed a back flip while corkscrewing through the air.

Arya gasped as the breath left her. She had not expected that flying could be so exhilarating. For the first time that day, she allowed herself to relax in Eragon's presence. After Saphira tired of the acrobatics, she flew leisurely over the Jiet River, flawlessly adjusting to the changes in air pressure. She flew lower and lower until her claws were skimming the surface of the water.

_Fancy a bath, little ones?_ Saphira asked slyly. And without waiting for an answer, she plunged into the river. She stayed under until she could sense the discomfort of both of the riders on her back. As she surfaced, the riders gasped for breath, and Saphira began to float lazily down the river. Eragon turned around anxiously to judge Arya's reaction, and was pleasantly surprised to find her grinning. He laughed in relief and soon, all three of them were laughing together.

And the dragon, the Rider, and the elf spent the rest of the afternoon drifting down the river, enjoying each other's company.

**A/N: Hey, guys. I just reread the summary of this story and realized that it sounds peculiar. The reason I'm writing this is because I just started a new job working with teen girls with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). You've probably heard of soldiers coming back from the Middle East with PTSD, but you might not realize how prevalent it is at home. Most of the girls in my program have suffered sexual abuse trauma, and all been psychologically abused. As a result, the girls relive/act out their trauma on a daily basis. Many of them also have Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD), which means they often act like they love you one minute and then hate you the next. They have major behavioral disorders, which makes for a volatile workplace. It's exhausting and I needed a way to relieve some of the emotions I experience at work so I'll actually be able to sleep when I get off home. So basically, I'll write when I need to. Feel free to ask questions or offer criticism/praise –I'll be glad to hear from you, but I'm certainly not going to beg for reviews. The truth is, I'm writing this mainly for me. **

**-Cai**


	3. Chapter 3

After Arya had gotten back to her tent after spending the afternoon with Eragon and Saphira, she had felt happy and safe. However, as the sun began to set, the pleasant feelings began to wear off. Once again, her terrible memories threatened to overtake her. She sat on her bed as she was assaulted by memories of the events leading up to her first flight with Saphira.

_She saw Glenwing and Faolin die, as the Urgals and the Shade cornered her. Arya felt the horror of watching her friends die, the terror of being captured, and the despair of not knowing what happened to the one free dragon egg left in existence. Memory after memory of her torture in Gil'ead came to the forefront of her mind: being whipped, branded, systematically sliced open, beaten, poisoned, and even raped._

Arya was unable to move and unaware of her surrounding, so it was no surprise that she did not hear Eragon's knock or see him when he entered her tent to see if she was okay. He hurried over to her and knelt down by her side. His concern was magnified when he realized she was unresponsive. He touched her face trying to rouse her, and called her name both mentally and aloud.

Slowly she began to blink. Eragon sighed in relief. "Arya," he said, "do you know who I am?" When she looked at him in confusion, he tried a simpler question, "Do you know your name?"

Shaking her head in what looked like an attempt to clear it, she said, "Arya."

Once again, relief coursed through him. He got off of his knees and sat next to her on the bed. "What color is my tunic?" he asked.

"Blue and your leggings are black," she replied. Slowly she was becoming reoriented to her surroundings.

Trying his original question again, he asked, "Do you know my name?"

Smiling, Arya said, "Yes. Your name is Eragon and your dragon is Saphira. Why are you here?"

Eragon hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal, before answering, "Saphira noticed that you were not yourself today, and she suggested that I come talk to you to make sure you were okay. I'm very glad I came. What happened?"

Arya gave him an absolutely black stare before haughtily replying, "My thoughts are my own, and I will thank you to respect my privacy."

"I realize your thoughts are your own. I'm reminded of that daily. And as for privacy, well, I'll respect your privacy so long as it does not place you or anyone else in danger," Eragon retorted hotly. When he realized she was not going to relent, he looked her in the eyes, and backed down saying, "I cry your pardon Arya Svit-kona. I did not mean to invade your privacy. Whether you recognize it or not, I was attempting to protect you, as you have done for me on countless occasions. Had we been attacked, you would've been completely unaware and unable to react. And," he continued sheepishly, "I didn't enjoy seeing you as you were a few minutes ago."

Arya let out a long breath, avoiding Eragon's eyes. "I too spoke badly. I should not have become angry with you for trying to help me. Instead I should have thanked you. I will agree to answer your question about what happened if you will answer a question of mine."

Eragon thought about it for a moment and nodded his assent. "Nearly every night I am haunted by my past. Tonight I was trapped in Gil'ead. Last night I saw everyone I have lost in this never-ending war," Arya recounted emotionlessly.

Astonished, Eragon asked, "How long has this been happening?"

"Ever since I talked with you the night when you created the lily for me," she replied simply.

Eragon remembered that night, but for a different reason. It was the first time she told him what she had felt during her capture and throughout the months she was tortured by Durza. It was also the first time he had seen Arya cry. His intentions had been good; he wanted Arya to talk about her experiences so that she would not be forced to keep it all inside. He thought it would help her. Clearly he had been mistaken. "Arya, I cannot even begin to apologize for causing these memories to haunt you," he said softly, anguished.

Arya met his eyes and spoke, "It is not your fault, Eragon. You could not have known this would occur. I bear the responsibility, for I was the one to tell you what happened."

Eragon's eyes went blank for a moment, a sign Arya recognized to mean he was speaking with Saphira. His eyes came back into focus and he said, "Saphira says that this is part of healing. You must face your past in order to be free."

Arya smiled sadly and replied, "Perhaps, but I do not think I am strong enough to face these memories."

She jumped, as Eragon forcefully responded, "You're not strong enough to face your past alone. No one is. You must rely on others to help you." Abashed, he realized he had frightened her. "Sorry," he tried to rectify, "I just wish you could let yourself confide in someone. Saphira and I care about you and are concerned for you." He looked down at his hands as if afraid of her reaction.

For a moment, the two Shadeslayers sat in silence. Arya took a deep breath before responding, "I understand, and I thank you both. I am not yet ready to talk about it." She looked up at him and said, "Now, you promised to answer my question."

Eragon looked very much like he wished he hadn't made that promise, but nodded to show that he would keep his word. "When you said 'Saphira and I were concerned,' is that what you truly meant?" she questioned, keeping a close eye on his face.

Knowing she would pay attention to everything about his answer, Eragon made sure to still his facial expressions. He thought for a long time before responding. He looked her in the eye, and in the Ancient Language he answered her question, "Saphira and I both care deeply about you. You have taught us both more than you probably realize. It's true when I say that Saphira and I are concerned. Your friendship means more to me than anything else in all of Alagaesia, and I fear anything more I say will jeopardize it."

As she analyzed his answer, Arya nodded slowly and replied, "Thank you for your honesty." Relieved, Eragon let out the breath he had been holding.

They sat together for a time, neither of them sure what the other wanted. Finally, Arya stood up and walked over to the opening of her tent. Eragon followed her, recognizing that it was time to go. They bade each other goodnight and as he was walking away, Arya heard him mutter something in the Ancient Language. It was far too quiet for her to hear, but she guessed he had used magic to make her feel tired, for she began to fall asleep where she stood.

Arya went back into her tent and changed into sleepwear. She put out the candle with a spell, and for the first time in a long time, she fell into her waking dreams almost instantly.

…

Across camp, Eragon sat with Saphira, musing over what had occurred with Arya. Saphira said, _Little one, I am proud of you. You sat by her, but did not push her. Perhaps you _will _be able to tame her_. She sounded surprised that her advice had worked so well thus far. Eragon laughed and curled up next to her warm side. Saphira draped a wing over him, and together they slept.

**A/N: Two points to anyone who knows what series the title of this story is from! And in answer to someone's question. Yes. This is my first fanfiction. **


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Arya woke at dawn, surprised that she had managed to rest for the whole night. As she pondered getting out of bed, she heard the clamor of soldiers hurrying to ready themselves for battle. Suddenly fully alert, she sprang out of bed, got dressed, and grabbed her sword and bow, thinking that Murtagh and Thorn had decided to attack.

She exited her tent and almost ran headlong into Eragon who was coming to alert her to the situation. Even though something was clearly amiss, Arya had to fight back a smile for he had only half of his armor on, and he was carrying the pieces he clearly hadn't gotten to yet. "The men of Feinster are rebelling! They're trying to win back their town!" he cried. He spoke with the air of a man who had too many tasks and not enough time to complete them. Arya nodded to him, and he ran off, his Elvin bodyguards trailing behind him. She guessed he was headed for Saphira.

Arya sighed in relief. Though it was certainly not ideal that Feinster had decided to attempt to overthrow the Varden, it certainly was not as dire a situation as facing Thorn and Murtagh. She set off after Eragon before realizing that she had no idea what the Varden's plan was. She could catch up to Eragon and ask, but he obviously already had many other things to worry about. Hesitating for a moment, she turned and ran toward Nasuada's tent. Judging by the chaos she passed and occasionally was forced to leap over, she discerned that nobody really knew the plan.

Nasuada looked nearly as harried as Eragon, but she glanced up from a letter she was hastily writing as Arya entered the tent. "Arya! I'm glad you're here. I know it's beneath your job as Ambassador, but for this morning only, would you consent to delivering a message for me?" she inquired.

"Of course, Nasuada. What is the message and to whom will I be passing it?" Arya replied.

Nasuada looked a bit relieved and said, "I'm certain you noticed on your way here, but our troops are a bit…disorganized at the moment. We were caught with our pants around our ankles, so to speak, because we thought the citizens of Feinster would tolerate our presence. I need you to remind the company commanders that their orders are to refrain from engaging anyone in combat. They may defend themselves if necessary, but no one should attack unless I give the order. I fear that in the confusion of this morning, they might forget the original orders." She waited for Arya's agreement and then continued, "After you have reached everyone, you may find Eragon and join the elves that fight alongside him." Without another glance, Nasuada turned back to her letter.

Slightly confused, Arya delivered the message, paying no heed to the stares she received from the Varden's soldiers. After seventy years, she no longer noticed that men gaped at her wherever she went. Her visit to Nasuada had raised more questions than it answered. Clearly Arya was missing part of the plan. They couldn't hope to quell the rebellion by simply not fighting. It was apparent that she would need to find out more from Eragon. She sought out his mind, learning that he was on the other side of the camp. She made her way over to him and found him explaining something to an exasperated Roran. She noted that Eragon had finished putting on his armor.

Eragon spared her a glance before saying to Roran, "Look. You're our best shot at minimizing how many men are killed. If it doesn't work, we're no worse off."

Roran just shook his head and walked in the direction of Nasuada's tent, muttering under his breath. Arya greeted the elves, Saphira, and Eragon, and asked, "What is the plan?" her brow furled in confusion.

Eragon gave her an odd smile and spoke, "Roran's going to try to reason with the people of Feinster who are resisting us. I just figured that since he knows what it's like to fight to protect the people he loves…" he trailed off and shrugged. "I don't know. I just don't want to fight them. They're not my enemy, and this time I can't even say they fight for Galbatorix. I believe Roran's the best person to try to explain that to them." He looked at Arya, waiting for her reaction.

"Because Galbatorix's men are a threat and the men of Feinster aren't," she softly mused, looking at the ground.

Eragon peered at her in confusion, trying to understand her thoughts. "What?" he asked, getting a different response than he anticipated.

Arya's gaze darted back up to meet his eyes. She smiled slightly and said, "On the way back from Helgrind, I was trying to understand how you could kill the Empire soldier who begged for his life, and yet you were unable to kill Sloan. You said, 'He was a threat. Sloan wasn't. Isn't it obvious?' This situation is much the same. The men of Feinster cannot hope to fight us. They pose no real threat, and thus, you do not want to fight them."

She let out a small laugh at the astonishment on his face. He couldn't believe she remembered his words. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Varden's battle horns sounded, so instead, they both jumped on Saphira's back and set off to the front lines.

…

When they arrived, the two armies (though calling a group of two hundred men with farm tools an army was a bit of a stretch…) were lined up across from one another. Neither side was attacking, but both the men from Feinster and from the Varden were shouting and taunting one another. It was cacophonous and showed no signs of ending, despite the fact that Roran had climbed a tree and was trying to get everyone's attention.

Saphira projected her thoughts to Eragon and Arya and said, _This is ridiculous. They sound like squabbling children. Roran will never be able to get their attention, and he looks foolish sitting in a tree like a bird. _And_ they're hurting my ears. _And with that, Saphira let out a mighty roar and a blast of flame, silencing both sides.

Roran, knowing he might not get another opportunity, jumped down from the tree and began to speak, "Men of Feinster, you do well to protect your friends and family. That is something I understand. It is something I respect, for I am Roran Stronghammer."

The crowd began to stir in recognition, and Roran continued, "My cousin is Eragon Shadeslayer. After Saphira hatched for him and he fled, the Empire came to find me. When my village refused to betray me, the soldiers and the Ra'zac attacked and we were forced to fight for our homes…our families…our lives. They discovered that we could not be bested by the forces they had they swore to come back. That night, the Ra'zac kidnapped my fiancé-"

Murmuring was heard throughout the men of Feinster as they witnessed the hardened soldier's eyes well up, causing him to pause to get control of his emotions. Several moments later, Roran was able to continue, "It was then I realized to what lengths I would go to save the people I love. My village agreed to come with me to join the Varden in Surda. I knew they were the only group that could save us, and we willingly agreed to fight to bring down the king.

"I stand before you today to tell you that you are not our enemies. Many of us not only understand your position, we also have been the ones defending our homes. My village was Carvahall. Others fought in Farthen Dur. There are even a few of us who fought in Ilirea, now Uru'baen, before the fall of the Riders. We fought for our homes, and we understand your desire to protect your own.

"We do not want to harm you or your families. We know you have not sworn loyalty to Galbatorix, but that Lady Lorana, your leader has. You have our assurances that she is and will continue to be treated well. Instead of fighting us, we are hoping you will join us on our quest to fell the tyrant king that has ruled for over one hundred years. We are offering you to help us fight for freedom, not just for your city, but for all of Alagaesia.

"So I ask you, brothers, will you join us?" Roran concluded, his head bowed.

The rumblings in the crowd of men from Feinster grew louder. For ten minutes they discussed their options, while the men of the Varden stood in silence. As much as they loved a fight, they too were struck by Roran's speech. Finally, a man from Feinster stepped forward and spoke, "We may be few, but we are strong. We will fight with you."

The Varden cheered, and eventually dispersed. Eragon spoke to the men from Feinster and said, "Thank you. We truly do respect and thank you for your decision. You will need armor and weapons, so please see our smiths so you can be properly outfitted."

Eragon turned away and stared at Roran in amazement. "I didn't know you could talk like that."

Arya and Saphira nodded their agreement. _Truly. Your words warmed my belly like the faelnirv of the elves_, Saphira said.

Roran glanced at Eragon and Arya in confusion, but shrugged and said, "Thank you. I have learned many things in fighting for the woman I love." And he too turned and walked away.

Arya, Eragon, and the Elvin spellcasters gazed after him, bemused. Finally, Eragon turned to Arya and said, "Would you spar with me? It's been awhile since I've fought someone with skill, and I fear I'm getting rusty." He offered her a casual smile.

Blodhgarm and the other elves waited for Arya's response. Like the day before, she considered his intentions before responding. Again, she agreed, saying, "We have not crossed blades since your transformation. I am most interested to see how we compare now."

Eragon laughed and replied, "You mean you want to see if you'll trounce me as easily as you did the first time."

Arya smiled widely, pulling her blade from its scabbard, dulling the edge of her sword with magic as Eragon did the same to his. The elves formed a circle around them, eager to see who was more skilled.

As they got into their stance, ready to begin, Eragon realized that Arya knew his abilities with a sword, but he was much less familiar with hers. Deciding it would be prudent to ascertain the extent of her skill, he waited for her to strike first.

She didn't disappoint him, her blade cutting through the air almost faster than Eragon could react. The fight was almost over before it truly started as he stumbled over an uneven clump of grass. Regaining his balance, he pivoted and parried her blow, but did not engage her in a counter attack. Instead, he waited for her next strike, which came less than a second later, a blow aiming for his head. Again, he blocked her sword, retreating.

Arya's eyes narrowed as she tried to understand what Eragon was doing. She knew this wasn't his fighting style, and it hurt her pride to know that he was not even attempting to win. Trying to enrage him enough to fight back, she began a series of attacks. She struck so hard and so fast that she knew at least one of them would land. Indeed, her third strike rapped him hard on the outside of his left knee.

Eragon cried out, his voice masked by Saphira's roar of pain, but he did not break his form. The pain angered him and he began to launch a counter offensive. Now Arya was on the defensive. She was faster than he was, but he was stronger. She was able to keep pace with him, but she often had to use two hands to parry his blows.

Both Eragon and Arya were panting with sweat streaming down their faces. They had been slashing and dodging each other's blows for quite some time with neither gaining any ground. Slowly, Eragon began to notice that whenever she had both hands on her sword, her left side was unprotected for half a second. Wanting to end this fight before either of them was completely exhausted, Eragon feigned a strike to Arya's right side. As she grasped her sword with both hands, preparing to deflect his attack, Eragon adjusted at the last second, slipping under her reach to strike her in the ribs.

As Eragon lunged forward, he himself was left vulnerable. Even as his sword struck Arya in the ribs, hers did the same to him. They both fell, grasping their left sides. Their swords may not have been sharp, but the force of the blow was enough to badly bruise their ribs.

They swiftly healed themselves and stood up, unblocking the edges of their swords. In unison they sheathed their weapons and turned toward each other. Both were grinning, all reserve forgotten.

"You have grown rusty," Arya jested Eragon. "A mighty Dragon Rider should be able to best a mere princess in a swordfight."

Eragon laughed and retorted, "I am not the only one who is out of practice. You have had eighty more years of training than I have. Surely you could defeat a simple farmer who is not even fully grown."

In the past these descriptions, a princess and child, had hurt them when they had used them against each other. Arya resented the weakness the term "princess" implied, and Eragon detested being called a child. But as they spoke them here, the negative implications fell away, and they saw each other as equals.

"I am impressed," Blodhgarm's voice came from behind them. "It has been many years since I saw a swordfight with that level of skill."

"Thank you," Eragon replied simply.

Saphira crawled over to him and touched his brow with her snout, _You have indeed improved, little one. I am proud of you. _

Arya glanced at the sky and realized it was past midday. She turned and said to Eragon, "I must go help to equip the newest members of the Varden." With that, she left, leaving Eragon with the other twelve elves.

**A/N: I know this chapter is really long and has little to do with the Arya PTSD plot…unless you look at the swordfight as a metaphor of the impasse in Arya's and Eragon's relationship, but that's admittedly a stretch. But anyway, I realized that if that's all I write, there would be nothing exciting happening. That means I'm going to have to write about battles, which that should be interesting. The next chapter will be more focused on the PTSD plot, and the next will probably be the battle of Belatona.**

**Also, I'm trying really hard to keep everyone in character, which is slightly challenging. Most fanfics discount Saphira (which I do when I'm writing more from Arya's perspective, but that makes sense since Saphira's not usually in her head), and make Arya weak and quick to fall in love, but I'll talk more about that at the end of the next chapter. **


	5. Chapter 5

**The Inheritance Cycle belongs to Christopher Paolini. I don't own anything. If I did, there would be far fewer plot holes and a much better ending. Just saying. **

After Arya had fitted the men from Feinster for armor and eaten a quick dinner, she was desperately in need of a bath. There was a stream several miles from the Varden's camp. It took her a third of the time to get there as it would a human female, but it was still twilight by the time she arrived. She stripped off her clothes and got into the stream. In dying light, she reflected that the cold temperature of the stream would have been much more pleasant during the heat of the afternoon, so she quickly washed and got out. Crouching by the side of the stream, she grabbed her clothes and washed them as well. She dried out the leather with magic and got dressed.

Arya began walking back to camp. As an elf she was used to traversing forests at night, though the trees she was used to bore pine needles rather than leaves. She spotted a clearing with a stump in the middle and smiled as she remembered Eragon's meditation lessons in Ellesmera. Taking a seat on the stump, Arya closed her eyes and let down her barriers, allowing her mind to touch all of the life in the area. She sat there for a time until she felt the tension of the day leave her body.

When she was relaxed, she stood up and resumed her trek back to the Varden's camp, her eyes focused on the beautiful night sky. As she caught sight of her tent, Arya was surprised to find Eragon and Saphira sitting together in front of her tent. Saphira was lying on the ground and Eragon was sprawled between her front legs. Saphira raised her head, causing him to leap up as Arya approached. "Why are you here?" Arya asked cautiously.

Eragon hesitated and looked at Saphira before responding, "After last night, we decided to come make sure you're safe tonight."

"And so you are here to protect me?" Arya clarified, still confused, but with a growing suspicion that she was not going to like what Eragon had to say.

"So to speak," Eragon began. "You said that you are haunted by your past every night, so I…I mean we are here to help," he finished lamely.

Arya's green eyes flashed with anger as she realized that Eragon still did not believe she could take care of herself. Drawing herself up, she spoke contemptuously, "How many times must I tell you that I do not need your protection? I do not need or desire your 'help'." She continued to glare at him.

Saphira pushed Eragon with her snout and he gave her a frightened glance. "Arya, I did not mean to offend you, but I know that you are not okay. We care about you too much to let you to continue to suffer needlessly every night," he responded tentatively.

"I see," Arya answered, the angry glint still in her eyes. "You still have not given up your pursuit of me. I will tell you again. Eragon, it can _never_ be."

She moved to pass Eragon and Saphira so she could enter her tent, but she was stopped when Eragon cried, "Wait!" He closed his eyes and tried to formulate words that would not further damage their relationship. "Arya, I came here as a friend, not in an attempt to win you over." He spoke gently, refusing to get angry knowing Arya would only turn his anger against him. "Saphira and I care for you, as I told you last night. I came here not for myself, but for _you_. I care about you regardless of whether or not we can ever be together. I understand that there's nothing for me to gain, but that's not important. You and your wellbeing are what matter," he finished.

Halfway through his speech, Arya had frozen, her eyes locked on his. After he finished, she continued to stare at him. Eragon took a step toward her, and Arya turned and ran as fast as she could. She had no destination in mind, only a desire to get as far away from him as possible.

Eragon cursed and faced Saphira. "What did I do?" he asked in confusion.

_Little one, you scared her. You must go after her. She is not safe in this state._

"So I can destroy our relationship even more? No thanks," he spat as he dropped himself to the ground.

_Eragon, if you do not get up and go after her, I will kidnap you from the Varden, fly you to the Beor Mountains, and drop you from the highest point. Go. On your way, I will explain to you her actions. _

"Fine!" he retorted as he got up and started running in the direction he saw Arya go. Eragon hated arguing with Saphira because he nearly always lost. As he was about to exit the camp, he heard someone running behind him. He skidded to a halt and spun around to see Blodhgarm following him.

"Eragon. What is the matter?" Blodhgarm asked breathlessly.

"What?" Eragon questioned. He then realized what he must look like darting across camp as if chasing down an enemy. "Oh. I'm sorry. I have offended Arya and am trying to find her so as to make amends."

Blodhgarm nodded understandingly. "I see. I must insist that you let me come with you," he replied.

Eragon thought quickly, but could not come up with a way to explain to Blodhgarm why that would be a terrible idea. Saphira rescued him. She said, _I will be with him. Do you not trust me to protect him?_

Fearing insulting a dragon, Blodhgarm relented and sighed. "Alright," he responded. "You must be back in one hour. If you are not back, we will come find you."

Eragon stopped listening after he heard Blodhgarm's consent. He nodded and took off running again.

Flying above Eragon, Saphira began to explain to him. _As I said, she is scared. You must understand that while elves have the capacity to care deeply for people, they do not often overtly show it. You have many qualities, little one, but subtlety is not one of them. She is likely scared because she knows how much you care about her. Another reason she is probably frightened is that she does not understand what you are doing. Remember her torture in Gil'ead. That has scarred Arya –one night of talking and crying about it with you will not have healed her. Durza would torture her and heal her injuries, only to torture her again. He healed her only to make her relax so the next bout of torture would catch her off guard._

Eragon had been running across fields when he spotted the woods. Struck with certainty, he entered the woods and paused to find Arya's tracks. He considered Saphira's words, and found the truth of them resonating inside of him. Locating Arya's trail, he resumed his breakneck pursuit of her.

_Shall I continue?_

Eragon nodded and berated himself for not realizing that Saphira wouldn't be able to see him. She was circling above the forest he had just entered.

Of course, Saphira still knew his intentions and snorted, amused. _Because of her experiences with Durza, she is wary of kindness, but even before that she had a very unstable relationship with her mother. Her mother claimed to want the best for her, but then disowned her. That kind of betrayal almost certainly left a mark on her ability to become close to people. If you combine that with Faolin's death, there is little wonder that she is scared to begin to rely on you. When you reach her, understand she will likely be terrified. Approach her slowly. I will be nearby to help you. _

With that, she let Eragon focus on finding Arya, while he simultaneously tried to sort out all of the different types of fear Saphira said she was feeling. He had trouble grasping how many types of fear existed, and how one person could feel them all at once. He closed his eyes and searched for Arya's mind and discovered that she was nearby. Heading in the direction of her mind, found her sitting on the ground at the base of a rocky cliff. Her arms were wrapped around her legs with her forehead pressed against her knees.

Eragon stepped on a stick, which cracked loudly in the quiet night. Arya's head shot up as she stared, eyes wild, in his direction. He immediately stopped moving, waiting for her to relax, and began talking, "Saphira told me to follow you. Actually, she threatened to kidnap me and drop me from a mountain if I didn't go after you." He paused, not sure what to say.

_Just talk to her, little one. She just needs a calming presence until she can regain control._

Smiling, Eragon continued, "You ran more quickly than I could follow, so I had to track you. It was a bit like tracking deer in the Spine back when I lived in Carvahall. That's what I was doing when I found Saphira's egg. I had been following a herd of deer for three days and just as I was about to shoot the injured deer with my bow, there was a loud noise and a flash of blue light. The deer bolted, so I chased after them to try to get a shot, but the arrow I fired just missed. After that I hid in the woods a bit to make sure there was no danger from whatever magic had happened. Then I went into the clearing and saw Saphira's egg. Actually, I thought it was a stone and tried to sell it, but nobody knew how much it was worth, so they wouldn't buy it." Saphira hissed at this revelation, but Eragon wasn't listening. "Eventually she hatched for me, in the middle of the night of course, scaring me half to death."

He paused in his story. Arya was still in the same position, but she had relaxed a bit and her eyes seemed calmer. Slowly Eragon made his way over to her and sat next to her, making sure not to touch her.

She adjusted her body slightly to address him. "What type of game are you playing, Eragon?" Arya demanded in a voice not her own.

Genuinely shocked, Eragon sputtered, "Wh-what? I'm not playing any games. Arya, I'm not going to hurt you."

"You cannot hurt me," Arya responded brashly, her face impassive.

Eragon was still confused, but his temper was beginning to surface, so he argued, "That's not true. The very fact that you ran from me proves that you're afraid I'll hurt you." Arya's mask did not budge.

_Be careful, little one. She is already backed into a corner both literally and metaphorically; do not trap her with your words as well._

Chastised, but still adamant, Eragon tried again, "I'm sorry. I didn't come to argue with you, but I am going to be honest with you. I _can_ hurt you. You may not admit it, but it's the truth. You can push me away or take off running again, but I'm not going to give up. I'm not going to run away just because you get mad at me or try to make me angry, or even if you use my feelings for you against me. It's not going to work."

When Eragon had entered the clearing, Arya had been feeling a paralyzing fear. As he began talking to her, she was afraid because she didn't understand why he had followed her or why he was so adamant about helping her. When he walked over to her, she remembered the times when Durza raped her, bringing a fear that Eragon would force himself on her, but she also began to fear he would leave. Some women might have clung to him to make sure he didn't leave them, but Arya knew better. She knew that it was better to make him leave before he could hurt her. If she pushed him away, he would be unable to leave her. When he refused to take her bait, Arya's fear turned to simple confusion.

All of her confusion welled up inside of her as she asked, "Why?" Arya allowed her hair to fall over her face, creating a barrier between herself and Eragon.

Saphira's explanation helped him understand Arya's point of view, so he felt confident in his response. He shrugged and said, "Because I know you. I know how strong you are. If you're struggling this much, what you're facing is probably enough to kill anyone else. But you're still fighting, and I won't let you face it alone. You've become part of Saphira's and my family, and that means we'll be there to help you when you need it, even if you don't want it."

Arya still didn't understand, but she suspected it would take time to begin to comprehend what he meant. "Okay," she allowed. "What is your plan?"

"M-my plan?" Eragon stuttered, off-put by her acceptance. Only Arya had the ability to turn him into an ineloquent moron.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, and raising her eyes to meet his, Arya responded slowly as if the answer was obvious, "Yes. You said you are going to help me. How are you going to do this?"

Eragon berated himself for his stupidity, but answered, "Saphira and I were talking earlier and we came up with an idea. I'll come to your tent each night and talk to you until you fall into your waking dreams."

Arya considered this for a moment and said, "While there are merits to that plan, it does pose certain challenges. I am not comfortable with you watching me sleep. Also, I fear what kind of rumors would start if you were seen entering and leaving my tent each night."

Eragon coughed, embarrassed. "I understand," he spoke, thinking quickly. "When we leave for Belatona, I can set up my tent next to yours. That should eliminate both issues because I can talk to you from my tent. Until then, I can sit outside your tent with Saphira. Nobody will question our relationship if she's with us."

Nodding, Arya said, "Okay. I will trust you. I only ask that you do not allow our boundaries to be blurred."

He had no real response to that. If she didn't believe by now that he cared about her, not about whether or not they could be together, he didn't know how to make her understand. "Arya, I would never pursue you without your consent," he replied.

Her emerald eyes met his, her gaze unfathomable. She nodded slowly and whispered, "Thank you."

_Little one, you are nearing the end of the hour that Blodhgarm allowed you, _he heard Saphira say.

"Arya," Eragon spoke tentatively, "We need to go back to camp before my Elvin guards come after us."

Her eyes flashed at this betrayal. "You told Blodhgarm about me?" she demanded.

Eragon raised his hands in defense and responded hastily, "No, no! I only told him I offended you and needed to fix it."

Arya relented, and lithely stood up. Eragon scrambled up after her, and together they walked out of the woods. At the edge of the woods, Saphira was waiting for them. Silently, they both climbed on her back, and they flew back to the Varden's camp to meet a very anxious Blodhgarm.

…

Later that night after Arya was asleep, Eragon sat outside of her tent with Saphira, exhausted from handling the ups and downs of the day.

Sensing his doubts, Saphira inquired, _Little one, are you sure about this? You may never get to be with her. Is she worth your happiness?_

A flash of anger shot through Eragon at her words, but as he thought about them, he realized it was a valid question. Speaking mentally to her, he said, _She is worth that and more. Just as we never had a choice with our future, I never had a choice with her. _

_I am glad to hear you say that. Going forward you can have no doubts, for Arya will be full of them. I only wished to make certain of your surety,_ Saphira informed him.

_I love you, Saphira_, Eragon replied simply.

_And I you, little one, _she responded. As had become their ritual, he lay down beside her, and fell into his waking dreams as she draped her wing over him.

**A/N: I've always hated how Paolini didn't further develop the plot about Arya's instability due to the trauma she experienced. He nailed the part about her being slow to consider a relationship with Eragon, but pretty much blew the rest of it. Beginning to open up about her trauma should have made things much more difficult for her. It's like shaking up a bottle of soda, taking the lid off to let a little escape, and then trying to put the lid back on. It doesn't work, and the pain she felt should have had to be expressed, which is not something Paolini talked about. I'm going to stay away from really strange behaviors (flashing people, self-harm…I think…unless I can do it well, or sexual promiscuity), but Arya is going to seem out of character at points. That's what dealing with trauma looks like. It's not pretty, and truthfully, it's scary as hell at times. **

**I also hate that CP doesn't definitively say whether or not she was raped. Though she declined it at one point, I'm inclined to believe otherwise. I can explain my reasoning if you wish, but this note is getting a bit long for one chapter. **


	6. Chapter 6

**The Inheritance Cycle belongs to Christopher Paolini. I own nothing.**

As Eragon and the Elvin spellcasters crept up to the edge of Leona Lake beside Belatona, only one thought ran through his head: _This plan is mad. _

It had taken a week for the Varden to march to Belatona. They set up camp a mile from the city walls. They couldn't hope to hide thirty thousand troops from a city, so they didn't bother with stealth. With only two cities left before Uru'baen, Nasuada was focused on minimizing losses, which meant that they needed an unorthodox method to swiftly capture Belatona. After the war council's ingenuity failed, Nasuada consulted Roran.

He had studied the map of Belatona for a few minutes before he turned and walked out of the tent. The war council members looked at each other and clambered up out of their seats to follow him. He walked to the top of a hill overlooking Belatona. He stood there for ten minutes, observing the city, after which he smiled and strode back to the tent.

Eragon had looked at Arya and rolled his eyes, causing her lips to twitch as she fought back a smile. While the other council members were astounded by Roran's methods, Eragon had not expected anything else. After everyone was back in the tent, Roran began talking.

What he came up with was the most daring strategy Eragon had ever seen. If it worked, the Varden would suffer almost no losses, but if it didn't…

That wasn't even an option. Belatona was a walled city, with a sentry every twenty yards on the top of the wall. Every minute at night, the first guard would shine a light to the person on his right, who would shine the light to the person on his right. They would continue this pattern the whole way around the wall, ensuring that if something happened to one of the sentries, it would take less than a minute discover. That meant it would be nearly impossible for someone to sneak into Belatona, which was exactly what Roran proposed.

Belatona was nestled against Leona Lake. While most cities housed their leader in the center of the city, Belatona's castle was positioned close to the wall, near the lake. The architects of the city had the idea to give the castle a moat by allowing part of the lake to flow under a bridge built into the wall, and into a ditch dug around the castle.

Roran intended to use this to his advantage. While Arya on Saphira's back and the Varden launched an attack on the gate, on the other side of the city Eragon and the Elvin spellcasters would render themselves invisible, and float under the bridge into the moat. They would infiltrate the castle, remaining as inconspicuous as possible, and kidnap the leader. If everything went as planned, they would disguise themselves as human citizens of Belatona, and escape through the market, take out a sentry, and climb over the wall. If anything went wrong, the whole plan was ruined.

_If everything went as planned_…Eragon had never heard of a battle strategy where each phase was so contingent upon the previous step.

_Eragon! You need to focus!_ Saphira's voice shook him from his reverie. She didn't like the plan any more than he did because it required them to be separated during the battle. Saphira might trust Arya, but she hated being apart from her Rider when he was in danger.

Sighing, an invisible Eragon led the elves into the freezing lake, hoping it was too dark for anyone to see the ripples they were making. As soon as the slow-moving current floated them under the bride, Eragon contacted Saphira.

_Saphira, now! _He thought with all of his might. The quiet of the night was broken as the Varden's assault on the gates commenced. As Roran had hoped the soldiers defending Belatona momentarily left the castle doors undefended as they got into position for battle, which allowed Eragon and the elves to slip inside.

…

"With me!" came Roran's shout, and the Varden attacked as one.

Arya hated war. Despite the fact that she had joined the war against Galbatorix from the moment her father died, she hated the death and destruction. However, she put those thoughts aside as she drew her sword and realized that on Saphira's back she was up too high to fight men. She jumped down and prepared to fight alongside the fierce dragon.

Saphira charged and loosed a deafening roar, causing all of the Empire soldiers to flinch. Arya's sword whipped through the air, beheading a handful of soldiers before anyone even took note of her. She felt the drain on her strength as the Empire's archers began firing arrows in Saphira's general direction. A fair amount missed the dragon, but would have struck her had her wards not stopped them.

Arya and Saphira, leading the attack, were surrounded in a matter of seconds by Empire forces. Arya pivoted, parried, and stabbed at the soldiers at a pace only an elf could maintain. A man managed to get close to Arya before Saphira roared again, picked him up in her jaws, and threw him back into enemy ranks.

_Careful, little one. Eragon would not be pleased with me if I allowed harm to befall you,_ Saphira told Arya.

Arya noted the affectionate tone and the name Saphira usually reserved for Eragon. She was not sure what to make of it, but disregarded it to continue fighting. The Varden was not outmatched, but neither would they easily overpower the Empire soldiers. She hoped Eragon would hurry.

…

Meanwhile, Eragon and the elves were slipping through the castle, largely unnoticed…if you didn't count the dozen or so dead guards tossed unceremoniously in corners and cupboards throughout the castle. They stuck mostly to servant hallways to avoid the majority of the defenders of the keep. Eragon led the Elvin spellcasters through the kitchen, up two flights of stairs, down a long, narrow hallway, always delving deeper into the castle. The reached the keep in a matter minutes, guided mainly by instinct, as well by following the sounds of voices. Realizing that the majority of forces in the castle would be guarding the leader of Belatona, they were could not hope to sneak in and out entirely undetected, but they did have a plan.

Eragon held up a hand for the elves to halt as they reached a doorway that would lead them into the keep. He swore silently as he listened with his Elvin hearing, realizing that there were around fifty guards on the other side of the door. The door was the only entrance to the keep and they would have to take it. Unless…

Eragon spun around, struck with a spark of an idea. As he took off running in the opposite direction, the elves in tow, a new plan started to unfurl in his mind. He retraced their steps down the back hallway back to the flight of stairs. He and the elves climbed up another flight, and ran down a hallway that was roughly the same direction they had come from. When they reached approximately the same place they had been, now a floor higher, he lay down on the floor and listened. He grinned up at the elves when he discovered that they were now directly above the fifty soldiers guarding the keep.

Stealth was key, so while Eragon felt confident he and the elves could take out the soldiers standing guard, it wasn't worth the ruckus it would create. Instead, he led the elves through the doorway connecting the servant hallway to the main part of the building.

Fortune smiled upon them, and no one was in sight. Momentarily losing his sense of direction, Eragon hesitated. One of the elves was quicker to gain his bearings, and led the group into an empty bedroom to their left. "Thank you," Eragon said gratefully, and the elf smiled. "I'm going to light my sword and cut a hole in the floor."

Blodhgarm shook his head. "You will not be quick enough, Eragon-Finirel," he informed Eragon. "Let us use magic to blast a hole in the floor. Wyrden will cast a spell of silence upon this room and the one below us." He looked at Eragon for approval.

Eragon nodded. "Atra nosu waise vardo fra eld hornya, May we be warded from listeners!" Wyrden commanded in the Ancient Language.

"Jierda stenr, Break Stone!" Blodhgarm instructed, as a giant hole appeared in the stone floor before them.

Without wasting any time, Eragon and the elves jumped through the hole to the room below, where ten very surprised men were standing. The nine guards called for help, but their cries went unheard due to the silencing spell that was placed on the room. The elves made short work of the guards, felling them in less than a minute. The leader of Belatona was sitting on a chair, too frightened to do anything about the dozen elves and the Rider that had entered the room.

"Atra nosu waise vardo fra eld hornya!" Wyrden again cast silencing spell for the room below.

"Jierda stenr!" repeated Blodhgarm, creating a hole directly below the first one.

Eragon grabbed the leader without saying a word, and once again they jumped through the hole, this time landing in a tiny, poorly lit room that based on the smell could only be the privy.

"What's the fastest way out of here?" Eragon demanded of the corpulent man he was carrying.

The man sputtered, "I-I-uh-you need to go down one more floor."

Eragon looked to Wyrden and Blodhgarm, and they cast the same spells for the third time, and dropped through the hole. Repairing the castle was going to be costly.

This time, Eragon recognized their location. They were once again in the kitchen, which was no longer empty. A few kitchen maids shrieked as they noticed a dozen elves dropping through the ceiling, and began screaming insults at them when the discovered that their leader was being taken captive.

In the confusion, Eragon was only able to make out a few words, "Scum….fleebag...-dare you…"

Ignoring them, Eragon and the elves proceeded to phase two of the plan. They cast the spells that would disguise their features enough for them to pass as humans. Their ears became rounded, their facial features less angular, and they lost a couple of inches of height. The elf carrying a bag began to pull cloaks out of it that would help them to hide their weapons. Not wanting to waste energy by transforming the Lord of Belatona, they forced him to put on a hooded cape as well, hoping no one would be particularly familiar with what the man looked like. In a matter of two minutes, they were ready.

"…curse you, you bloody-" was the last they heard of the insults the servant women shouted at them, as they slipped out the back door.

…

_Where was Eragon_, Arya thought. Perhaps the plan had gone amiss. She was now flying on Saphira's back, shooting arrows at the Empire soldiers while Saphira bombarded them with fire. Fortunately, Murtagh and Thorn had not yet made an appearance, something everyone was grateful for. Roran's entire plan hinged on the absence of Galbatorix's duo.

Her thoughts were momentarily forgotten as Saphira rolled out of the way of enemy arrows, and she gasped, surprised. _Arya, you are not yet so comfortable on dragonback that you have the luxury of letting your thoughts wander_, Saphira reprimanded her.

_Sorry, Saphira._ Arya replied, chastised. She scanned the ground. Slowly but surely, the Varden was gaining ground. They had not yet reached the gates, but they were within fifty meters of doing so. Together, she and Saphira flew overtop of the city in hopes of spotting Eragon and the elves, but quickly turned around as the barrage of arrows increased a hundredfold.

…

Eragon was surprised that Roran's plan was working so well. They acted as though they were fleeing the battle, like so many other people of Belatona. Knowing a group of fourteen walking together would look suspicious, they spaced out with a few yards between each group of two, three, or four. They kept their heads down, but their ears alert, hoping to catch any surprises before they struck. The Lord of Belatona walked in between Eragon and Blodhgarm, who had cast a spell on him to keep him from calling out for help. He was far from cooperative though, and continued to struggle until Eragon threatened to slip his sword between his ribs. The Lord quickly stopped trying to escape, but continued to shoot scathing looks at Eragon.

They made it to the market before anyone questioned their presence. With less than two hundred meters to go, an Empire soldier standing guard stopped them. He was young, at least as young as Eragon. "I haven't seen you here before. Where do you come from and where are you going?" he demanded in a surly tone.

Stepping forward, Eragon pleaded, "Please, sir. We're new here. We've been working in the castle as servants. We heard the fighting and didn't want to get caught up in it." As he was talking, all of their party, save Blodhgarm and the Lord of Belatona were able to slip by the guard. It appeared he was choosing random people to question. Out of the corner of his eye, Eragon noticed that the elves didn't look back, but they did slow down to ensure they wouldn't reach the wall before Eragon and Blodhgarm could catch up.

The soldier was about to reply, but was distracted as a fight broke out between another guard and a citizen of Belatona. Eragon and Blodhgarm didn't wait to see what would happen, and walked quickly enough to get away from the guard, but not quickly enough to arouse suspicion.

They managed to reach the wall before they were challenged. _Saphira!_ Eragon mentally shouted, _We've reached the wall! Warn the Varden. _

Eragon waited until he heard the bugle call that signaled to the Varden not to attack Eragon or the elves before they began climbing over the wall.

Obviously the Empire soldiers realized the group of fourteen was not what they appeared to be, but by that point, it was too late. Wards blocked their arrows as Eragon, the elves, and the Lord of Belatona met with cheers from the Varden.

Someone quickly came to take the Lord of Belatona from Eragon, but Eragon was no longer paying attention. He first scanned the sky, and finding nothing, adjusted his gaze to the ground. Spotting Saphira, he took off running in her direction. His grin quickly faded as he saw an enemy magician slump to the ground, and watched in horror as dozens of Empire soldiers were able to pierce her tough scales. He realized immediately that the magician must have succeeded in finding away around her wards.

Eragon let out a fierce war cry, and bounded over to Saphira as fast as he could. His Elvin protectors followed suit, and together, they sliced through the enemy soldiers. He and the elves were forced to keep fighting because no matter how many soldiers they felled, more took their place.

After what seemed an eternity, they were able to drive the forces back, and Eragon quickly turned and observed what wounds Saphira had suffered. Her snout was pierced numerous times, her left wing was badly torn, and she had several swords sticking out of her chest. At least one had nicked an artery, which caused blood to spurt out of her chest. Panicking, Eragon swiftly examined Saphira's injuries. Relieved when he saw she could be healed, he set about healing her. It took some time, and by the time he was done, the battle was over. Because she had lost so much blood, she would be unconscious for a time until her body could recover. Eragon lamented the loss of their connection, even for a short time.

The Varden had won, Saphira was safe, and Arya…

Eragon started, realizing he hadn't thought about Arya since he saw Saphira's state. He shot to his feet and spun around ready to set out to find her, only to collide with her. She had been standing behind him the whole time.

To his relief, she laughed, despite being unceremoniously tackled to the ground. Eragon marveled at the sound. She laughed so infrequently. He had been talking to her every night from inside his tent. He told her of his life in Carvahall, his journeys with Brom and Saphira, and talked to her about the things he and Saphira discussed. Occasionally Arya asked questions or told a story of her own, but for the most part, she was silent until she drifted into her waking dreams. Though she never explicitly said it, Eragon knew she was grateful to him for protecting her from the memories of her past.

Eragon pulled her to her feet and realized he had no idea what to say. Arya opened her mouth to speak as well before closing it, also at a loss for words.

_Little one!_ Eragon heard Saphira say. He was delighted to hear her voice partly because their connection made him feel whole again, but also because it got him out of an awkward moment with Arya.

"Saphira!" he shouted both mentally and out loud. He threw his arms around her neck. To his surprise, with her wing, Saphira pulled Arya into their embrace. Arya stiffened at first, but relaxed enough to put an arm around both Eragon and Saphira.

It could hardly be called a perfect moment. Many men had died, Saphira had been wounded, Galbatorix still reigned, and Eragon and Arya were not quite comfortable with the contact, but their little family was safe and in that moment, that was all that mattered to them.


	7. Chapter 7

Eragon woke just before dawn on the day after the battle for Belatona. Saphira wasn't yet awake; through their connection he was receiving fuzzy and discombobulated thoughts and feelings that he knew were part of her dreams. It was too early to get up, so he tried and failed to go back to sleep. Once he was awake, his mind began processing all that had occurred during and after the battle.

One thing Eragon hated was watching people make the same mistakes twice, so he was pleased to find out that the Varden would spend more than a day securing Belatona unlike they did at Feinster. He did not anticipate any rebellions, though because once the soldiers who were citizens of Belatona discovered that the Varden had captured their leader, they were quick to lay down their arms. The Empire soldiers were not pleased, but they didn't have the numbers or the strength to challenge the Varden without reinforcements from Belatona.

Eragon grinned to himself as he considered all the accolades Roran was receiving for the success of his battle strategy. Roran had been named to the war council and had been promoted to the rank of general. Eragon knew Roran was a mighty warrior who relied on daring and nerve more than on the traditional army strategies that would work better if they outnumbered their enemy. While Eragon recognized the merits of Roran's thought processes, he also knew that had even one misstep occurred the day before, the Varden would have lost twice as many men as using a traditional siege. His mouth went dry as he considered the position the Varden would be in if the plan hadn't worked.

Rolling over, he groaned, not especially wanting to think about the "what ifs" of life. Eragon knew he wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep, so he sighed, got out of bed, threw on his clothes, and grabbed his sword. As he walked out of the tent, the two elves on guard duty nodded to him in greeting.

Eragon greeted them as well, and began to walk to the top of the hill that was no more than one hundred meters from his tent, the elves bringing up the rear. It was a clear morning, crisp because the sun had not yet risen. Together they strolled past hundreds of identical tents. Eragon considered that for a rebel force intent on bringing down the most evil and powerful man Alagaesia had ever known, the Varden's camp appeared rather drab. Of course, beauty was not exactly their first concern, but Eragon couldn't help but yearn for Ellesmera where function and beauty were intrinsically intertwined.

When he reached the top of the hill, he motioned to his Elvin guards that he did not intend to go any farther. Understanding his need for privacy, they obligingly backed far enough away that he could have the illusion of solitude, but still be protected in case of an attack.

Eragon sat down on the grass and immediately cursed his carelessness, for the grass was still wet. By this point, his seat was completely soaked through, so he did not bother to stand back up. He gazed to the horizon where the sun was just beginning to rise, and began to think of Oromis and Glaedr. There had been so much going on in the past couple of weeks that he hadn't given himself much time to grieve their deaths, or perhaps he just didn't want to think about it.

Eragon didn't place the blame of their deaths solely on Murtagh, but neither was he completely innocent. Ultimately, it was he who wielded the sword, though Galbatorix had been in control of him. Eragon grasped his hair and pulled, trying to clear his mind of these thoughts. Dwelling on who his half-brother had become would do nothing but bring him misery.

He forced himself to think instead about what he and Saphira had lost when their masters died. Eragon lost a father figure, which by this point in his life was nothing new, though it still hurt. He also lost a kind and patient teacher. While he supposed another elf could take up the task of teaching him magic, no others could educate him in dragon lore.

Saphira, if it was possible, had lost even more than he had. In theory, another elf could take Oromis' role in teaching him, but no one could replace Glaedr who had been the last dragon of the age of the Riders. They still had his Eldunari, of course, but no one knew if he would ever be able to overcome the death of his Rider.

Suddenly, Eragon jumped to his feet, drawing his sword as he heard someone approaching from behind him. He turned around to discover it was only Arya coming to join him. Feeling foolish, he sheathed his sword and sat back down to continue watching the sunrise.

Arya hid a smile at his reaction and touched two fingers to her lips in the traditional Elvin greeting as she sat beside him. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Arya spoke. "You miss them, do you not," she said.

Eragon was puzzled by her tone, which sounded more like a statement of a fact rather than a question. "Of course," he replied. Remembering her reaction when he told her of Oromis and Glaedr's deaths, it occurred to him that he did not know how close Arya had been to them. He inquired, "Do you miss them?"

She smiled sadly and shrugged. "I have not had time to truly miss them, but I know that when I am next in Ellesmera, it will feel empty without them," she admitted.

This further cemented his belief that he did not know the extent of the relationship between his masters and Arya. "Were you close?" he questioned, hoping she would not think he was prying.

Arya thought for a few moments and began to answer, "Yes and no. As you know, when I was a child my father was killed in this never-ending war."

Always one for keeping her hands busy, Arya began to weave a tiny basket out of grass as she confided in Eragon, "With him died my innocence, but also the only hope I ever had of getting along with my mother. She and I have never communicated well, but when my father was alive, he was able to help us to understand each other. After he died, my mother and I began to argue constantly."

She paused to tuck her hair behind her ears before continuing, "It was after I ran away from one of our disagreements that I happened upon Oromis. I had heard of him and he had heard of me, but we had never met. He could tell I was upset, so he took me back to his home and made tea for us. We sat for hours without saying anything.

"Finally, when he sensed I was completely calm, he asked me what had happened. I had only intended to tell him of what had transpired that day, but for so long I had not told anyone about my troubled relationship with my mother, and I ended up telling him everything. Instead of making me feel like a child, we talked about what I could do to try to get along better with her. From then on, whenever she and I argued, I would run to his home. Sometimes we talked, other times we just sat in silence. Either way it never failed to make me feel better. Even when my mother banned me from her presence, I was still welcome in Oromis' home."

During the time Arya was speaking, the sun had popped over the horizon, but Eragon didn't notice. He was too intent on Arya's story. She so rarely allowed him a glimpse into her past, and this was the most she had ever told him about her strained relationship with her mother. Feeling the need to respond, he softly said, "Thank you for telling me. Many people have offered me condolences and I know they don't make anything better, but I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," she replied simply.

Together they sat in companionable silence until Eragon heard Saphira begin to stir. He sighed in relief when he felt their minds become fully joined. _Good morning, Saphira_, he said to her.

_Good morning, little one. _A brief pause ensued while she glanced around her, before she continued in surprise, _I have slept long!_

_It is not so strange. It's not often that you lose as much blood as you did yesterday, _Eragon reassured her.

"How is Saphira?" Arya asked, knowing Eragon was speaking with her.

"She's surprised that she slept so long," he answered.

_Please greet Arya for me,_ Saphira requested.

"She also says to greet you," he continued.

Arya smiled and replied, "Greet her for me as well, and tell her I hope she is feeling better after her injuries from yesterday."

They were joined a few minutes later by a still sleepy Saphira, and continued to make small talk, taking comfort in dwelling in the presence of family; a family born of circumstance rather than one of blood.

Soon afterward, they were forced to head back to camp to face the duties the day had in store for them.

As they were walking back, Eragon heard Saphira say, _Little one, Arya has begun sharing her past with us! You're one step closer to taming her._

Eragon's heart lifted as he realized his dragon was right. At the feeling of pleasure he felt, Saphira began to hum contentedly.

**A/N: I know my chapter 6 sucked. I plan to fix it at some point, but I need to be in the right mindset, which is apparently hard for me to come by. Also, I wrote this chapter during my graveyard shift, so please grant me some leniency in the possible odd word choice or questionable grammar. I have the next three/four chapters planned out, but after that I don't really know where the story is going to go. A few chapters ago I said that I'd write when I needed to. I guess that'll start after chapter 10 or 11. **


	8. Chapter 8

**All the credit for the Inheritance Cycle goes to Christopher Paolini. I own nothing.**

Eragon's heart pounded in his chest as he approached Arya's tent. The night was calm, but for him it held no peace, for tonight he would ask her about Faolin. It sounded like a reasonable topic of conversation, but he was afraid of what Arya's reaction would be. Over the few weeks after she spoke with him about Oromis and Glaedr, she had begun to open up, but she was often unpredictable. Sometimes she was cold and aloof, and other times she seemed like she wanted and needed to be around him. She'd told him about her relationship with her mother, her few childhood friends, the loneliness she felt being the only Elvin ambassador, but she hadn't begun to talk about her capture and torture. Perhaps she felt that she had already shared everything around the campfire many months ago, but Eragon knew there was more to it.

_Little one, she is going to sense your nerves. You need to find your calm center_, Saphira prompted him.

Adopting the tranquil mindset he had learned from the elves, he attempted to quell his anxiety. To his surprise, he was partially successful. Saphira helped him with the rest of his fear by separating that emotion from his consciousness, and replacing it with peace.

Eragon let out a sigh of relief as his heart slowed to its normal rate. By this time he was outside Arya's tent, but she didn't appear to be there. The day had been filled with strategic planning meetings about their attack on Dras-Leona, but they had ended several hours before. Eragon's brow furled in confusion and concern. _Where is she?_ He wondered.

Saphira snorted in amusement, letting out a small burst of flame. Thankfully she was lying in front of his tent with her head facing slightly away from him. _You are just getting back to your tent. The meetings may have ended hours ago, but that did not mean you were exempt from other duties. If you were kept busy, it is likely that the ambassador to the elves was as well._

Feeling foolish for not realizing this before, Eragon sighed and walked the short distance back to his tent. He leaned against Saphira and said to her, _For all the times you show me reason, you must think me the most unintelligent being in Alagaesia. _

Amused again Saphira replied, _Hardly, little one. I simply catch your mistakes before you utter them aloud. A man cannot be thought a fool based on his thoughts. If that were so, none would be considered wise. _

Eragon saw the truth in her words and was appeased. Together he and Saphira sat in companionable silence, waiting for Arya to return to her tent.

A quarter of an hour later, he saw her approaching. She was wearing her customary leather tunic with her raven hair pulled back from her face with a leather band. He smiled at her, a gesture that she returned openly. This, more than anything bolstered his confidence. Not so long ago, she would have resented the fact that he was waiting for her.

He touched two fingers to his lips in greeting, and asked, "Would you take a walk with me?"

There was only a slight hesitation before she murmured in response, "Of course."

Eragon smiled, and the two of them began to walk in silence, while Saphira took to the air to hunt. The Elvin spellcasters were nearby, but Eragon had spoken with them earlier to request their discretion. They had agreed to grant Eragon and Arya privacy as long as they stayed within the Varden's camp.

One thing Eragon had learned about approaching Arya was to always give her a choice. So long as she felt she was in control of their relationship, they remained on good terms. There were times when his pride rebelled and he was tempted to reclaim some of this control, but he was able to resist most of the time, and Saphira helped him cope the rest of the time.

Together they walked to the top of the hill that was the edge of the Varden's camp. A circle of trees had been cut down, probably to fuel the Varden's fires. Arya and Eragon sat down close together on a forgotten log.

Eragon marveled at how comfortable was the silence between them. For some time, they sat and gazed at the night sky, the stars only partially veiled by a diaphanous layer of clouds. Finally, Eragon stirred and Arya turned to look at him. His fear collided with his desire to free her from her past, and for several moments he floundered. He waited to hear Saphira's voice in his mind, but belatedly realized she was off hunting. He still felt their connection, but she was too far away for her to speak with him.

Realizing he was on his own, he swallowed the fear sticking in his throat, and began, "Arya, will you tell me about Faolin?"

Whatever Arya had anticipated, this was not it. She gasped in surprise and looked away from Eragon.

For a long time, Arya said nothing, while Eragon continued to watch her. Eventually, still staring into space, she questioned him in a whisper, "Why do you ask?"

Eragon thought for a moment before answering, "I ask because I know he was important to you, and because I know you think about him often. If you're agreeable, I'd like to shoulder some of the burdens you bear."

Arya deliberated, fighting with herself. She knew what decision she would make, but she couldn't seem to voice a response. She also knew Eragon was watching her, which didn't make the process any easier. Taking a deep breath, refusing to let her emotions dictate her actions, she responded, "What do you wish to know about him?"

Eragon said, "How you became close, what he was like, what you did together?" He shrugged. "I don't know. I wish to know whatever you're willing to tell me."

Sighing, Arya replied, "Alright." She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. She wouldn't look at Eragon despite the fact that she knew he was watching her. Continuing, she said, "I have already told you some things about him, but for the sake of continuity, I may repeat myself. Faolin and I met in Ellesmera, two elves who could not bear the thought of living there forever. He was two decades older than I was, and infinitely more experienced and patient than I.

"We became friends a few years before I became the Elvin ambassador; a decision he disliked. For many months he attempted to persuade me that it was not safe or necessary, but I ignored him and left. Whenever I returned to Ellesmera, which was infrequent over the decades, he would barely talk to me. This hurt me almost as much as my mother's rejections.

"Several years before Saphira's egg was stolen from Galbatorix, I traveled to Ellesmera to share with them information from the Varden. Faolin was waiting to welcome me. Nothing was so important to me as this, for he was my closest friend. I knew I had been forgiven and that he would eventually join me. During the week I was at home, we spent much of our time together talking, strolling through the forest, and even sparring. He was a fierce competitor, but I always won. He was a graceful loser," She smiled at this revelation before continuing.

"Before I left, he promised he would come with me the next time I returned to Ellesmera. He stayed true to his word a few years later when we received Saphira's egg. He wanted to come with me. This time I resented the idea because I cared for his safety, and knew of the dangers we would face. My mother intervened and requested that he and Glenwing go to protect the egg. I was furious, but once we left the forest, I relented. I cared for him too much to stay angry with him, knowing it would upset him.

"For the next twenty years, we were friends and companions, not so different from Glenwing and myself. Perhaps we were closer, but we were never more than friends. After the first twenty years as egg bearers, things began to change for us. Suddenly, having time alone together seemed to be of paramount importance. We could no longer laugh and joke without some sort of tension between us.

"It continued this way for almost a year before either of us addressed the strangeness in our relationship. He was the first to bring it up. I have never been so nervous as I was during that discussion. He told me he was interested in me. Though neither of us was ready to choose a mate, he wanted to begin to bridge the gap between friends and mates. I was elated. Nobody had ever made me feel the way Faolin did. I had wanted so badly to be able to run my hands through his hair, so the moment we reached the decision to become more, I did. I thought he would laugh, but instead he pulled me close and stroked my cheek with his fingertips."

Arya stopped speaking for a moment, and shivered like she was cold. She felt, rather than saw Eragon's hesitation as he slowly put his arm around her. Arya tensed, unsure of his intent, but slowly relaxed as he made no move to pull away. She had been cold, and his arm was warm and offered comfort, so she permitted the contact.

Gathering her thoughts, she again spoke emotionlessly, "Gradually we began to grow closer both emotionally and physically. Understand that relationships among elves are different from those of humans. We do not have the time limits they do, and so it was another year or so before we kissed, or to be perfectly honest, I kissed him. That was only a few weeks before he was killed and I was captured. You asked me once if I loved him, but I did not give you a direct answer. I will now rectify that. Yes. I loved him and he loved me. And I was forced to watch him die." After Arya finished, she was silent, not sure how Eragon would react.

After she finished, he turned his gaze to the night sky that was growing cloudier by the minute. Eragon was feeling many things after Arya's revelation. He was pleased that she continued to trust him enough to share very personal memories. Her grief at losing Faolin made him unbearably sad. He was also amazed that she had shown little emotion. And he was nervous, knowing his reaction could destroy their friendship. One thing he was not feeling was jealousy, which he knew was something he would have felt in the past.

When he found the words and the courage to speak, he said, "Thank you for sharing this with me, Arya. I truly wish I had been able to meet him. If you loved him, he must have been an incredible person."

Eragon knew the words were cliché, but they were true. Arya knew as well because she relaxed even more into his arm, and leaned her head on his shoulder. He tightened his grip on her almost imperceptibly in response.

They sat together in silence until Eragon felt Saphira returning, and released her. Together they walked back to their tents, immeasurably closer than they had been that morning.

**A/N: Hey guys! Almost 900 people have viewed this story, and only 6 have reviewed! I'm not going to post another update until at least 10 more people review. **

**Totally joking. I still don't care about reviews. I was just not so subtly mocking the authors who say crap like that. Although, now that I've said that, I do have one question. Do I need to change the rating if I'm going to talk about rape? **

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Cai (or Flex, which one of the girls at the Center has dubbed me)**


	9. Chapter 9

**The Inheritance Cycle belongs to Christopher Paolini. I don't own anything. **

Later that night after she felt confident that Eragon was asleep, Arya crept out of her tent and approached Saphira's sleeping form. The clouds had continued moving in and the night was very dark. Arya's elven eyesight aided her vision, but she still struggled to see well enough to watch her step, and as a result, stumbled twice on the uneven ground that separated her tent from where Saphira lay. She abhorred such displays of weakness, even when no one was around to see.

As she got close to Saphira, Arya suddenly realized that she didn't know how to wake a sleeping dragon without eliciting unpleasant results, but she needn't have worried. One step closer drew a low growl from Saphira. "Peace, Saphira. It is I, Arya," she whispered as quietly as possible.

Arya sensed Saphira's confusion at this impromptu visit in the middle of the night. "Can you make sure Eragon does not awaken? I wish to speak with you alone," she continued.

_Of course. Though I will not promise I will hide our discussion from him when he does awaken,_ Saphira replied.

Relieved that Saphira was going to abide by her wishes, even if just for tonight, Arya closed the distance between herself and the dragon and sat down, resting her back against Saphira's flank. Saphira, in return snaked her head around so she could watch Arya with one eye. "Thank you," Arya said gratefully. "I understand and accept your condition."

_Then what do you require from me?_ Saphira asked, not unkindly, her eye still fixed on Arya.

Arya undid the strap holding her dark, silky hair, and began to rake her fingers through it, combing out the knots. It was a nervous habit. "It is not often that I am in need of advice, but that is why I come to you tonight. There is no one in the Varden I can talk to but you and Eragon, and as it is Eragon who is causing my confusion…" her voice trailed off.

_You have come to me_, Saphira finished.

"Quite," Arya replied. "Eragon is my friend, and in the past, his actions have been simple to unravel. He was smitten with me and he could not contain his emotions. When I turned him away, he was hurt, but he stopped his pursuit of me. This I have seen, and this I understand. In recent months his actions have been more difficult to determine," she finished.

Saphira sniffed, amused at this wise woman's oversight. _And you want me to explain this…discrepancy in his actions?_ She questioned.

Arya nodded her assent, still anxiously twirling her hair.

Giving Arya the mental equivalent of a shrug, Saphira answered, _Very well. He loves you. _

Eyes narrowing and brow furling, Arya sat up straight and clarified, "You mean to say he is still infatuated with me."

Suddenly serious, Saphira said, _No, little one. He loves you. That much has not changed. He has grown wise, however, and now understands that his former pursuit of you was to both his and your detriment. His actions have changed because he has chosen to love you in whatever way you will accept. _

Arya started as she heard Saphira call her by the epithet she usually reserved for Eragon. Then the rest of her words sank in, striking fear and sadness to her core. "He cannot love me," she whispered sadly, her gaze fixed on the ground and her hands in her lap.

_I assure you he does,_ Saphira argued gently.

"But he does not know me," Arya continued just as softly.

With unyielding patience, Saphira responded, _With respect, Arya, I disagree. He knows you well. He pays attention to naught else when in your presence, and spends much of your time apart puzzling out meanings in your words and actions. What he does not know of you is peripheral. _

Arya's mouth began to quiver slightly, and she rested her forehead on her knees and her fingers on her temples, willing back tears. _Not this_, she said to Saphira mentally, not trusting her voice.

_Then, little one, this is not a discussion you should be having with me, but rather with him,_ Saphira chided her softly. She knew questioning the elf further would lead nowhere, and instead asked a question that had been plaguing her for many months. _Do you return his love? I will not reveal your answer to him._

For several minutes, Arya pondered the question without answering, her hands making their way back up to her hair. Finally, she responded honestly in a rough voice, "I do not know. I think I no longer know what it means to love."

Saddened, Saphira replied, _You have lost much, but I do not think you have lost your ability to love. If ever you did, it is true no longer. That, I think, is the cause of your turmoil: the stirring of your love. The waking limb burns with new life, little one. _

"Perhaps," Arya said uncertainly, still not meeting Saphira's eye. "In the end, it makes no difference if you speak truth, for my former response to Eragon's declaration of love still stands. He is still human, I am still elf; he is still seventeen, I am still one hundred; he still must kill Galbatorix, which will require no distractions."

Saphira was torn between amusement and irritation. _Arya, once those arguments were true, but no longer. Eragon still displays his emotions like a human, but his body and mind have turned more elflike than human. In years you are older than he is, but developmentally you are of similar ages. Humans grow physically and mentally more quickly than elves because they are not immortal. If that is true, then Eragon is a quarter or more of the way through the human lifespan. Though he shares your long life, most of his life he was human, so he is still developmentally an adult. Even you cannot question the amount he has grown and matured this past year. And as for your final argument, do you truly believe he is not already distracted by you? _Saphira picked apart her arguments one by one.

Arya was stricken. "I still cannot—" she began before she fell silent.

_I have decided to keep quiet our conversation on two conditions: One, you will speak with him tomorrow about this topic, and two, you will tell him the truth. Otherwise I will share with him everything you have told me tonight, _Saphira told Arya smugly, returning her head to its previous position, leaving Arya to ponder everything they had discussed.

"Alright," Arya answered meekly, standing up to trek back to her tent. She did not like Saphira's conditions, but she did understand their necessity. Eragon had suffered enough at her hand, and he deserved to at least know why.

**A/N: Hello, friends! Thanks for reading! I asked last chapter if I needed to change the rating if I was going to talk about rape, but nobody answered, so I guess the deal is that if I don't hear from anyone telling me otherwise, I'll keep the rating the same. Tomorrow starts my insane schedule for work, but I'll try to write and post the next chapter before the end of the weekend. The end of the week? Either way, I guess. **


	10. Chapter 10

**The Inheritance Cycle belongs to Christopher Paolini, not me.**

The Varden had been camped close to Dras-Leona for several days, preparing for their attack on the city. They were planning to commence the battle early the next day, which meant that Eragon had been kept busy from dawn until dusk. Night had fallen by the time he arrived back at his tent. He brushed aside the flap, entered his tent, and lit a candle. In the dim lighting, he discovered a note on his bed.

_Eragon,_

_I know you have had a long day, but I was hoping you could meet me where we talked last night. Your elven guard has already agreed to allow us our privacy._

_-Arya_

Eragon was puzzled, and walked back out of his tent over to where Saphira lay. She had heard what the note said as he read it, but did not offer her opinion when she felt his confusion. This he found peculiar. "Saphira, what is it?" he asked. It wasn't often that his dragon didn't speak her mind.

_Little one, I cannot tell you. You will go to her, but I cannot tell you what to say. Keep in mind that in taming her, you have also broken her. This was necessary, but now you must help her to rebuild herself. Remember her vulnerability and do not betray her trust, _Saphira advised. After she finished speaking, she withdrew most of her consciousness from Eragon's mind.

Eragon was taken aback, and asked, "Saphira, what's going on?"

Saphira, of course, did not answer him. It bothered her to know she was causing him distress, but she knew she didn't have a choice. Eragon kicked the ground and dust flew up. He turned, and stomped away in the direction of the circle of stumps at the top of the hill.

As he drew near, he saw Arya standing rigidly on the hill, facing away from camp. Eragon's anger dissipated when he noticed her anxiety. He strolled over to her side, placed his hand on the small of her back, and spoke softly, "Hi."

Arya didn't react to his touch, but she did turn when he spoke to her, and offered him a hesitant smile. "Hi," she responded and stepped away from him. His hand dropped to his side when she broke the contact between them. She had to tell him the truth, but she couldn't do it facing him. "I lied to you," Arya said emotionlessly.

Once again, Eragon was confused. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I did not tell you the whole truth about what transpired in Gil'ead. I suppose it was a lie of omission, but it was a lie, nonetheless," she responded quietly.

Eragon frowned. He didn't know what to make of this. "I don't understand," he responded, still confused.

Still facing away from him, Arya continued speaking, "After we sparred in Farthen Dur, I told you about the torture I endured. I told you that Durza ordered his men to use me as they desired. They were not able to get near me because I nudged away their minds. This much was true."

Eragon's stomach clenched as he began to have an inkling of what Arya needed to tell him. "Arya, are you sure—?" was all he managed before she cut him off.

She spun around to face him and met his eyes. "Eragon, I have nothing but doubt about this discussion, but I have promised Saphira that I would tell you the whole truth. Please do not make this more difficult for me," Arya said, her voice acquiring a bit of an edge.

Eragon nodded tersely.

Turning her back on him once again, she looked to the night sky and continued in a flat voice, "As I said, I was able to keep the men from touching me, but of course Durza found out. He was furious and murdered several of them in front of me."

She paused and took a deep breath before saying, "He told me that I might have been able to repel the men, but that I would never be able to resist him. I knew he was right. That night was the first time he raped me, and he continued coming to my cell each night until I was rescued. Not only did I have to withstand torture to nearly the point of death everyday, I also had my pride ripped from me. The only thing I had left were the secrets I guarded in my mind.

"When standard rape did not break me, he became enraged and stuck even more unpleasant things inside of me…like knives and sticks. He used whatever instruments he could find that would inflict the greatest amount of pain. He continued even after he knew such methods would not succeed because he enjoyed it –the power and humiliation.

"I began to hate my body; its weakness and vulnerability. Never before have I ever felt so worthless or so helpless. Nor have I ever felt such hatred. Durza perverted so much that the elves revere. Having a child is the greatest act of love and trust between two elves, and the act of creating a child is held in equal esteem. Now I can no longer stand to be touched, let alone become intimate with someone. I have never known sex other than rape!"

Arya whipped around to face Eragon, becoming enraged. "You say you love me," she accused, "But how can you love a person you cannot touch? How can you love a person who fears you? How can you love a person who does not love themself?" After this outburst, she fell silent, glaring at Eragon.

Suddenly the magnitude of Saphira's words crept into Eragon's mind. "_Remember her vulnerability and do not betray her trust," _she had said. He thought quickly, trying desperately to think of the right thing to say.

Praying to whatever gods were listening that he would do nothing to ruin their relationship, he met her eyes and said, "Arya, be sure that I do love you. Nothing you reveal to me can change that, for I don't love you for your perfection or your invulnerability. I love your smile and your laugh. I love your passion and your devotion to your people. I love your fearlessness in provoking anger in others, and I love the moments when you let your guard down. I love you, Arya, regardless of what has been done to you or whether or not you love yourself."

Eragon gauged her reaction to his declaration of love, and internally sighed in relief as her eyes softened. He hesitantly walked forward until they were inches apart. Acting on instinct (and truthfully, maybe a bit of a nudge from Saphira), he reached up slowly and tucked behind her ear the hair that had fallen in her face. She didn't react one way or another to his touch.

Emboldened by her acceptance, he continued speaking, "Arya, I love you, and I can think of no other way to express it to you, so I'm going to kiss you now…if that's okay."

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she didn't pull away as he cupped her cheek in his hand. Slowly, painfully slowly, Eragon leaned in, giving her the chance to refuse. Their eyes closed as their lips met, and he kissed her, his lips barely brushing hers. He felt her respond to the kiss in the moment before he pulled away and let his hand fall to his side.

Eragon rested his forehead against Arya's, eyes closed, breathing in her scent of crushed pine needles. After several moments she pulled away, but reached out and grasped his forearms. He opened his eyes and beheld her tension, her eyes still closed.

Remembering the times she ran from him, he prepared himself for her abrupt departure. Instead, she suddenly relaxed, and he gasped in surprise as she wrapped her arms around his torso and began to cry.

**A/N: Um…so yeah. Thanks for your comments. I do appreciate them even though I don't beg for them. I got conflicting answers about changing the rating, which I probably should have expected. Anyway, I'm not going to change the rating because I think I was about as inexplicit as I could possibly be about the rape. But then, I work with rape and sexual abuse victims, so maybe my idea of "inexplicit" is different from other peoples'. If you were offended or something, let me know and I'll change it. **


	11. Chapter 11

_Remembering the times she ran from him, he prepared himself for her abrupt departure. Instead, she suddenly relaxed, and he gasped in surprise as she wrapped her arms around his torso and began to cry. _

Eragon was astonished, but held her close, her face pressed up against his chest. Arya's sobs wracked through her body and through his by extension. Her shoulders shook as she gasped for air, and tears poured down her cheeks. Other than the gasps, she made no noise at all, so different from the mourning he was used to seeing in Carvahall and among the women of the Varden. He'd seen Arya cry before, but never so desperately.

Saphira was equally as surprised that Eragon had elicited such a reaction from Arya. She knew the extent of Arya's emotional state, but she hadn't expected the elf to react with tears of such abandon.

_What should I do? _Eragon asked Saphira desperately. _Why is she crying?_

Saphira reminded herself that in the past she had been able to explain Arya's behavior by guessing her emotions, so she shouldn't be annoyed at Eragon's question. _I do not know, little one. I am not quite sure that she understands. Just keep holding her._

Rolling his eyes at this lack of help, Eragon returned his attention to Arya. He continued to hold her, occasionally whispering words of comfort or stroking her back. After a quarter of an hour or so, his legs began to tire, causing him to realize that he was holding the majority of Arya's body weight. She might be light, but standing in one place for so long without moving was more than he could handle, so he assisted her to the ground.

Their new position was slightly more awkward, but Eragon managed to make it seem natural. He sat on the ground with his back against the lone log among the stumps, while Arya was draped across his lap. Her arms were still wrapped around his torso and his around hers, but her head now rested on his shoulder.

Arya continued to sob into Eragon, and he reflected that his tunic was becoming rather wet from her tears. Now that he was relatively comfortable, he resigned himself to his confusion and waited for her to stop crying.

Saphira was right to guess that Arya didn't know exactly why she was so upset. She cried for all she had lost and all the evil that had be done to her. She cried because it had been so long since anyone had held her. She cried because she never thought anyone would love her if she told them of her rape and how it affected her. She cried in confusion, anger, sadness, a bit of happiness, but mostly she cried because she was afraid. Arya was afraid of what Eragon might do to her, but she was also afraid that some of what she was feeling could be desire.

It took another three quarters of an hour before Arya's tears abated. During this time, Saphira stayed away, afraid to interrupt them with her presence. Eragon and Saphira were concerned because neither one of them had ever seen anyone cry so hard for such an extended period of time. As the last of her tears traced their way down her face, Arya dried her eyes and took a steadying breath.

"Better?" Eragon asked, smiling at her.

"No," she responded, hurriedly pushing away his arms and standing up, "I am going to be sick." Crying for so long had upset her stomach.

Arya ran away from the circle of stumps, bent over, and began to throw up. Eragon followed her, held her hair with one hand, and rubbed her back with the other until she was finished. She stood up and wiped her mouth. Wordlessly, Eragon handed her his water skin so she could rinse her mouth.

After she was finished, she handed his water skin back to him and stood looking anywhere but at Eragon. He knew she was embarrassed by what had occurred, even if he didn't know why she had been upset. Reaching out his hand, he stroked her cheek, hoping to get her to look at him. When this failed, he enveloped her in his arms and held her close. He heard her small breath of surprise, but she returned his hug.

They stood like this for a time before Saphira prompted Eragon, reminding him of the late hour. He sighed and loosened his grasp on Arya so he could look at her. She appeared to be half asleep, exhausted from the long day and lengthy cry, but she met his gaze.

_What do I do, Saphira?_ Eragon asked in desperation for the second time that night. _I can't leave her alone, but she'll be horrified if I offer to stay with her._

Saphira thought for a moment before saying, _I have an idea. Stay where you are. I need to take care of the elven spellcasters, but I will meet you there._

"It's getting late and Saphira's coming to meet us," Eragon said to Arya, explaining the reason for the shift in their position.

Arya merely nodded, clearly not feeling the need to explain her tears. Her heart sped up at the thought of the sleeping arrangements for the night. She was terrified of spending the night with Eragon even if they did nothing more than sleep, but a tiny fragment of her was intrigued by the idea.

Within a minute, Saphira made an appearance at the top of the hill, gliding effortlessly to the ground. Eragon grabbed Arya's hand and together they walked over to her.

Arya looked at Eragon unsurely, not knowing what conversation had occurred between Saphira and him, but he merely led her to his dragon's side and motioned for her to lie down. Too tired to argue or even to figure out if she should argue, Arya acquiesced.

After she got situated, her side pressing up against Saphira's, she lay still and looked up at Eragon, wondering what he was going to do. Instead of lying down beside her, he sat down by Arya's head and gently stroked the soft skin on her face. None of them spoke a word, and soon the elf had fallen into her waking dreams.

When Eragon was sure she was asleep, he stood up and walked over to Saphira's head. She obligingly draped a wing over the sleeping elf. Eragon lay down next to where Saphira's head rested, close to her front legs. She could sense his concern and said, _I am sure everything will be okay, Eragon. She did not run, nor did she seem upset by anything you did._

He knew logically that his dragon was right, but it was more difficult to convince his heart. _I guess I know that. I just can't help thinking that if I hadn't kissed her, she wouldn't have started crying, _Eragon said to Saphira.

Saphira thought for a moment before she replied, _Perhaps not, but it will not do to worry about what might have been. You acted in the way you thought best and nothing terrible happened. Rejoice in that knowledge and do not dwell in your fears. _

Eragon was relieved, but he still had one concern that had been plaguing him since he kissed Arya. Saphira could sense it in his mind and her body began softly rumbling in laughter. He knew he wasn't the most experienced kisser, only kissing one or two girls before Arya. Though he knew it was ridiculous, he was afraid that his kissing ability was partially responsible for her tears.

_Little one, you are more vain than I realized. Relax for I am sure the way you kissed her had nothing to do with why she cried, _Saphira told him, letting out a snort of amusement before falling silent.

Appeased, Eragon rolled onto his side and fell asleep next to his dragon.

**A/N: This is part 2 of chapter 10. It should have gone with what I posted last weekend, but I knew I wouldn't have time to finish this part until now. You have my apologies. **


	12. Chapter 12

Eragon and Saphira awoke before dawn early the next day, though it was hard to tell through a thick layer of clouds that covered the sky. This was the day the Varden would fight for control of Dras-Leona, and likely Murtagh and Thorn, but all Eragon could think of was how Arya would be able to fight.

_She is stronger than you give her credit for, little one, and she will not thank you for underestimating her abilities,_ Saphira chided Eragon.

He knew his dragon was correct, but he couldn't help worrying about Arya. Eragon desperately wished the elf could fight alongside him on Saphira's back, but he also realized that if they needed to fight Murtagh and Thorn, she would be in much more danger.

As he stood up from the patch of grass that served as his bed, he considered that he would have been better off using a bedroll because his tunic and leggings were soaked through. Brushing aside his discomfort, he waited for Saphira to lift her wing, uncovering a sleeping Arya.

Eragon suddenly realized that he had never had cause to awaken Arya when a tent did not separate them. This insight made him freeze. Should he prod her awake or call her name? Kissing her awake would probably not be a good choice, but it was tempting. Before he could get anymore ridiculous, Saphira snorted in disdain and snaked her head around, touching her snout to Arya's brow.

Arya started and her eyes flew open, blinking rapidly. She sat up and fought a smile at how uncomfortable Eragon looked standing in front of her. Because he didn't seem inclined to say or do anything except stare at her, she spoke, saying, "Good morning. Have I missed anything?"

Confused, Eragon thought that he was the one who was missing something. Was she just going to ignore what had happened the night before? Saphira snorted again, this time to get his attention. "Good morning!" he said more loudly than necessary as if to compensate for his delayed response. "You haven't missed anything. We're going to head back to camp to get ready for battle."

She got to her feet and accompanied the dragon and her Rider back to their tents.

…

A light rain had begun to fall by the time the Varden was in sight of Dras-Leona. Saphira and Eragon, clad in their fine armor, flew above the ranks of soldiers. Eragon carried Brisingr and a finely crafted shield, though he realized he would likely lose it early on in the fighting, as that seemed to be the trend in the previous battles.

Eragon's heart sank as he saw Thorn's mighty physique appear over the horizon, thinking that conquering Dras-Leona would be as difficult as any scenario Nasuada or the war council had imagined. Murtagh and Thorn were bound to be much stronger than they had been at their last encounter, and all Eragon and Saphira had gained was Glaedr's Eldunari, which had yet to awaken.

_Little one, much has changed since our last meeting. You have changed much. You now know who you are. Your father is Brom_, _not Morzan. You no longer feel you owe retribution for your father's evils. In essence, you are free, and this freedom gives you strength. Also, do not be so quick to discount your new role in Arya's life. This, possibly as much as knowing that Brom is your father, has given you confidence. _

Eragon felt emboldened by his dragon's words. As nervous as he still was, he no longer felt hopeless. He allowed Saphira to feel his gratitude, and she hummed in response. She was right. They had the elven spellcasters on their side, Glaedr's Eldunari, and a wealth of energy in Aren, Brom's ring.

Murtagh and Thorn seemed content to wait for the Varden's attack to commence before engaging Eragon and Saphira. This gave them an opportunity to land and talk with the elven spellcasters one last time before their skills and energy were needed. In truth, they were as prepared as they could possibly be, but Arya would be fighting among them, and he wanted to speak with her.

While Saphira listened to the battle strategy for what seemed like the thousandth time, Eragon used this time to talk to Arya. As much as he wanted to know, he did not ask her if she was okay to fight. Instead he drew her aside and merely stared at her, at a loss for what to say for the second time that morning. This time, however, she did not seem inclined to speak first, but met his gaze.

Finally, Eragon spoke, saying, "Stay safe, Arya Drottningu."

"And you, Eragon Shadeslayer. May the stars watch over you," she replied.

Both knew these words were meaningless, but neither could find the right words for the occasion. Instead, Eragon set his shield on the ground, stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and pulled Arya into a discomfited embrace. They were not any better at expressing their feelings through physical contact, and pulled away after a few seconds, embarrassed.

The elves had stopped speaking, and watched the Rider and the daughter of their queen with a disapproving interest. Eragon turned his back on them, grabbed his shield, and leapt onto Saphira's back, ready to fight. He spared one glance back at Arya, who was still watching him, before turning his sights on the battle before him.

The Varden was ill equipped for a lengthy siege, and they needed to take the city within a week to ensure they did not run out of supplies. Their plan largely consisted of getting into the city and overpowering Empire forces street by street.

Eragon thought the plan was solid and much less conditional than their plan to win Belatona, but the fact remained that they needed to find a way into the city. Their options were to either take out the wall, or win the gates. Because they didn't have the time or tools to fell a wall, the majority of the Varden's forces would concentrate on opening the gate, similar to their seizure of Feinster.

The only differences, he reflected, would be the number of magicians, the number of empire soldiers, and Murtagh and Thorn. Saphira laughed at this thought because even one of the differences would entirely alter how the battle would go. All three differences made the battles for the two cities incomparable. Regardless, they would fight, though they would likely lose many men. Realistically, the only way the Varden would stand a chance would be for Saphira and Eragon to defeat the red dragon and his Rider.

They bore this in mind as Murtagh and Thorn began to approach them, high above the Varden's forces. As they drew near, Eragon realized something and spoke to Saphira saying, "Saphira! Fly over the city. We can't fight them overtop of the Varden!"

Saphira recognized the wisdom in that, so she flew faster to ensure she and Eragon would reach the red dragon and his Rider before they arrived at the Varden's ranks. When they crossed over the walls to Dras-Leona, Eragon breathed a sigh of relief. Even if Saphira or Thorn crashed during their fight, they would not inadvertently crush the Varden's soldiers.

Despite the fact that both Eragon and Murtagh knew they would need to kill the other, they could not help exchanging words before they engaged in battle. Murtagh spoke first with an anguished look on his face, shouting, "Give up now, brother. Surrender before you or your dragon are killed."

"I would rather be dead than serve the king," Eragon retorted hotly. "Morzan was not my father, Brom was. I would not disgrace his memory by surrendering myself and my dragon to the king." Eragon could sense Saphira and Thorn exchanging similar remarks, but his mind was shut to everything around him, including Saphira so no one could breach his mental defenses.

Eragon watched with satisfaction as shock crossed Murtagh's face, but this pleasure was short-lived when Murtagh regained his composure, raised his sword, and let out a war cry as he and Thorn flew at Saphira.

This attack was futile, borne out of anger rather than logical thought, and Saphira evaded it easily by rolling out of the way and dropping a dozen feet. She righted herself before Thorn was able to stop his momentum, and prepared for his second attack.

Saphira had decided before the battle that because her skill was far superior to Thorn's and Eragon and Murtagh were equals, that she would do the majority of the fighting. Eragon had been against it at first, not wanting to risk his beloved dragon, but he eventually relented realizing that her plan made the most sense.

Thorn flew toward Saphira again, this time succeeding in clipping her underside with his talons, denting her armor and knocking her off balance. She roared in pain, but managed to get back into position before Thorn's third attack came. Once more she rolled out of the way, further enraging the red dragon who was becoming winded. She let out a roar and Eragon laughed loudly, hoping to coax the pair into doing something foolish.

This tactic worked, in part. Thorn flew back at Saphira as fast as he could, leaving Saphira no time to avoid him. She knew her evasion techniques wouldn't work forever, but she had hoped they would last longer than they did. Instead, she readied herself for the direct hit she was sure to take.

Thorn collided with Saphira with a thunderous crash, jarring both Riders, causing Eragon to drop his shield. He couldn't help laughing a bit at this expected development. He shook his head to clear the black spots that appeared when his head banged off of Saphira's armor. His helm could only protect him so much. As he regained his vision, he noticed they were falling at an alarming rate. Both dragons were struggling for control, but because Thorn was on top, he had the upper hand. If they collided with the ground, Saphira and Eragon would be crushed. When they were a mere thirty yards above the ground he shouted, "Saphira! Fly!"

Saphira heeded his warning and twisted out of Thorn's grasp, spreading her wings to slow their wild descent. Her claws brushed the ground before she flapped her wings and began to fly high above the city. Thorn was initially close behind, but began to fall farther and farther back.

When Saphira reached the point where the air began to thin, she stopped, and plummeted back toward Thorn. Eragon didn't like being up so high where the elven spellcasters could do little to protect them, but this was hardly the time to have a discussion about it with Saphira. Instead, he prepared himself to take a swipe at Thorn or Murtagh.

By flying downward toward Thorn, Saphira had gravity on her side, allowing her to fly at least three times faster than the red dragon. As she flew past Thorn, Eragon managed to lop off one of Thorn's front legs, while Murtagh lunged futilely at Saphira. Thorn and Murtagh howled in agony and disbelief as the leg plunged to earth. Eragon didn't escape unscathed as the strike nearly ripped his own arm off. He healed it quickly with a spell, feeling the energy drain out of him.

Knowing they needed to end the battle before Murtagh with his wealth of Eldunari was able to heal Thorn, Saphira leveled off and ascended back to the place in the sky where Murtagh and Thorn had not moved. Blood flowed freely from Thorn's stump, and while Saphira was able to avoid most of it, Eragon felt a few drops burn his skin.

Saphira once again flew to the point where Eragon began to long for breath before executing a back flip, and diving back toward Thorn and Murtagh who were beginning their descent. Saphira and Eragon crashed into them, and once again, free fell toward the earth. Thorn struggled, desperately trying to force Saphira to relinquish her grasp on him.

They were twenty meters above the ground before Saphira spread her wings to slow their fall. In relation to her speed, this paltry distance did little to curb her momentum, and consequently, all four of them hit the earth with a loud crunch.

Eragon fought to hang onto consciousness, and mentally shouted, "Saphira!"

His dragon didn't respond, so he delved into the energy stored in Aren and tried to say, "Waise heill!" When no sound came out of his mouth, he cried it mentally, hoping it wouldn't kill him, forgetting the elven spellcasters in his desperation to save his dragon. He felt her stir beneath him as the spell took effect, and breathed a sigh of relief. He then spared a glance around him to note that they had smashed through the gate, opening the way for the Varden to enter the city.

Eragon attempted to laugh at this bit of luck, but found it created a stabbing pain in his side. Turning his head to look down at himself, and nearly passed out at the sight. From what he could see, two of his ribs were broken and poking through his skin. Based on his inability to speak and trouble breathing, he guessed that at least one of them had punctured his lung.

Deciding to go get help, Eragon undid the straps that fastened his legs to Saphira and fell to the ground. Then he did pass out.

**A/N: Here's the battle for Dras Leona! Part of it at least. The rest will come in the next chapter. Because I like trivia, there are points up for grabs! Two points go to the person who knows what quartet the title of this story comes from. Two points go to the person who knows which line in chapter 10 I stole from the TV show Chuck. And 16 points go to the person who knows the answer to both! Plus a mention in my next chapter if you're into that kind of thing. **


	13. Chapter 13

**The Inheritance Cycle belongs to Christopher Paolini. I own nothing.**

Eragon awoke on a cot in an unfamiliar tent with a sleeping Arya curled up on a chair next to him. He glanced around trying to get his bearings, but to little avail. His wounds appeared to have been healed, but his chest was still very sore.

_Little one! You are awake!_ Saphira cried.

Eragon could sense that she was nearby even though he couldn't see her. He responded, _Aye. What happened?_ The last thing he remembered was healing Saphira before falling off her back during the battle…

_Saphira! The battle! Did we win?_ Eragon demanded impatiently, trying to sit up in his bed. He groaned softly in pain before lying back down. Reason had not yet struck him, for if they had lost, it would be highly unlikely that he would be left unguarded in a tent with Arya.

Saphira replied solemnly, _Yes, little one. _She would not be the one bring up their adversaries.

_And Murtagh and Thorn?_ Eragon asked tentatively, bracing himself for the worst.

Saphira hesitated before saying, _I'm sorry, little one. The impact of our crash killed them instantly. _

Hot tears leaked out of Eragon's eyes as he mourned the loss of his half brother and one of the last dragons in existence. Not only had they died, but he had also been the one to kill them.

_I would not go that far, Eragon. Surely I shoulder the majority of the blame considering I was the one who flew them into the ground. Do you condemn me?_

_Of course not, Saphira,_ Eragon said.

_Then neither should you blame yourself. It could not be helped._

Eragon pondered that for a few moments before answering, _I know it was necessary, but I still mourn the loss of a good friend. I will miss Murtagh for who he was, not who he became. _

_That, little one, is wise._

For a time, they grieved together. Despite her words, Eragon knew that Saphira very much regretted the fact that she was forced to kill another dragon. When Eragon's tears began to abate, he noticed that Arya was starting to stir.

_Saphira, what is Arya doing here?_ He asked cautiously.

Saphira snorted with amusement. _After you fell from my back, she lost all decorum and ran to you, confessing her love. _

Eragon was hopeful, but a bit skeptical for he replied, _Truly?_

This response made Saphira laugh. She had not thought her Rider would even contemplate that as a truthful statement. _No. Not truly. I was unconscious for quite awhile after our fall, but from what I can piece together, the elven spellcasters rushed over to us to heal us. They lifted me with magic and carried you to this tent so we would be out of harm's way. Arya has been with you since I awoke a day ago. Angela gave up trying to make her leave so she would be out of the way. _

This made Eragon smile for he could just imagine the argument that took place between two of the most stubborn people he knew.

_Little one, I am going to hunt. I waited for you to regain consciousness, but now I must go fill my belly._

Eragon replied guiltily, _Go! You didn't need to wait for me to wake up!_

_Perhaps not, but I needed to be sure of your wellbeing_, Saphira said as she took off.

The sound of her wings brought Arya to full consciousness, causing Eragon's attention to return to her. She untucked her legs from under her and winced as she stretched her stiff muscles. Eragon guessed she had not changed clothes or bathed since the battle for she was still wearing her bloodstained leather tunic and leggings. He was touched that she would forgo her cleansing rituals, but it made him feel guilty."Arya?" he asked.

Arya jumped, not having realized he was awake. "Eragon! You are awake! How do you feel?" she questioned.

"Sore, but whole. I assume I have you to thank for that?" he responded.

She shrugged modestly. "It was nothing. I healed your life threatening injuries, but Angela has been helping to staunch the pain. Your guard tended to Saphira." She hesitated before continuing, "Eragon, she should have died. None of us understand how she survived long enough for us to heal her."

Arya looked at him intently, trying to unravel the mystery that had been plaguing them for days. Elves did not believe in gods, but rather believed that there were natural explanations for everything. Thus far, they had not found one to how Saphira survived.

Eragon shook his head and said, "I don't –oh! I cast a general spell to heal her just after we hit the ground. Perhaps that is the answer you're looking for?"

Considering that, Arya tilted her head, "Yes. That would make sense. But where did you get the energy? Your wounds sapped nearly all of your strength."

"Aren," Eragon replied, holding up his hand to display his ring. "I used the energy in Aren." He shook his head as if ashamed. "That energy was supposed to help me defeat Galbatorix, but I've used nearly all of it before we've even gotten to Uru'baen."

Arya answered, "You saved Saphira's life with the energy contained in that ring. Do not trouble yourself overmuch because you used it in a different way than you planned. If you had not acted quickly, she would not be alive for the final battle, and we would not stand a chance."

As she spoke, Eragon began to succumb to his exhaustion. When she finished, he gave her a small smile and tried to sit up to keep himself from falling asleep. Arya smiled back and put a hand on his chest to keep him lying down. "Sleep, Eragon. Your body needs to repair itself. I will be here when you return," she informed him gently.

Eragon mumbled sleepily, "Take…take care of yourself. You should…change out of those…clothe—." That was all he managed before he fell asleep.

Arya smiled tenderly at him before rising to take his advice.

…

When he again awoke, true to her promise, Arya was sitting next to him. She smiled at him as he opened his eyes.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked. He was unsure because while it felt like he only slept a short time, Arya had clearly bathed and changed clothes during that time period.

Arya replied, "Just a few hours. Saphira has not yet returned from what your guard said was a hunting trip."

Eragon nodded, sitting up. "Yes. I don't know how long I'll be awake and therefore cannot guarantee if I'll remember, but will you tell me what occurred after I healed Saphira?"

"Of course," Arya answered with a nod of her head. "It has been a day and a half since the start of the battle. When you, Murtagh, Saphira, and Thorn fell from the sky, you crashed through the gate, leaving a large gap for the Varden to get through. I and the other elves rushed to yours and Saphira's sides to assess the damage. You were both alive, but had grievous injuries consistent with a fall from a great height with tremendous speed. Murtagh and Thorn were already dead and far beyond our ability to bring back. We healed the worst of your injuries there, and lifted you both to safety behind the Varden's lines.

"There we tended to the rest of your injuries while the Varden proceeded with their strategy to win the city. Once Thorn was dead, the Empire's troops fell apart. They were easily defeated. Not so simple to conquer were the priests of Helgrind. I am sure it does not surprise you that they do not fear death or torture because they subject themselves to it every day. Thus, they do not surrender. The only way to truly capture the city is to slay the strict practitioners of the religion. It was horrible to witness and cost the Varden many lives they can ill-afford to lose. However, Nasuada agreed that it must be done."

Eragon felt sick as he considered the religion that involved mutilating bodies. He too agreed that it would be best for Alagaesia if that religion were eradicated. A thought struck him and he asked, "What of the slaves?"

Arya's face tightened almost imperceptibly as she answered, "Roran insisted on freeing them, hoping they would join us."

"And did they?" Eragon prompted.

"Many of them did," she answered before reluctantly continuing, "But many did not. Instead they turned on the people of Dras-Leona. When the Varden tried to stop them, the slaves attacked us and we were forced to kill them. They were given their freedom only to have their lives taken away moments later." Arya was somber as she finished.

Eragon's heart sank. He had hoped that things would turn out differently. His eyes filled with tears and he pressed his hands to his face to hide them.

Arya brushed away his hands and turned his head slightly so she could peer directly into his eyes. She cupped his face in her hand and wiped away his tears. "What troubles you?" she asked gently.

Eragon reached up and covered her hand with his own. He closed his eyes as if to savor the moment before opening them and responding, "There is so much death. So many innocent people are being slaughtered. And to what end?"

Arya sighed and lowered her hand to her lap, Eragon's hand still intertwined with hers. "For the good of the many. That is the only answer I have, and it is a poor one. I do not understand it. I only know their deaths are necessary to save the lives of countless others who would be murdered by the king," she answered.

Smiling slightly, Eragon nodded. "Yes. Oromis questioned me many times about why I'm fighting so that I wouldn't become discouraged when it all seemed meaningless." He continued his questioning, "What's the Varden's status now?"

"Right now we have a tenuous hold on the city. We have captured each street, conquered the priests of Helgrind, and taken the leader as a prisoner. In essence the city is ours, but we are still attempting to secure our footholds so it cannot be taken back," Arya informed him, in a businesslike tone.

Eragon nodded. That made sense. Now that he felt caught up with the goings on in the world, he remembered that he and Arya still had other matters to discuss. "Arya?" he began tentatively.

"Yes?" she answered.

"Can we please talk about the other night?" Eragon finished in a rush.

Arya froze. She hadn't been expecting the abrupt subject change, and didn't have a chance to prepare herself for this discussion. Not trusting her voice, she nodded tersely.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Eragon spoke, "I only wish to know one thing: what made you cry?"

This question was expected, and realistically, Arya knew he would ask it. Unfortunately, it was the one question she didn't have an answer to. "I do no not know," she whispered.

Eragon's brow furrowed as tried to think of a different way to approach this conversation. He contemplated a myriad of different ways to phrase the same question and said, "Hmmm…okay. What were you feeling?"

This question was not much better, but at least Arya could answer it. "I was feeling many things," she replied.

He could tell this conversation was going to take a lot of prompting. He asked, "Can you name a few of them?"

As much as Arya wished he would stop, she knew he would not rest until he better understood what had transpired between them. Resigning herself to an uncomfortable conversation, she answered, "Confusion. I did not understand myself. I wanted to run, but I could not. I was also relieved that you did not think differently of me after I told you what transpired in Gil'ead. And…and it felt nice to be held. By my own design, since Gil'ead nobody touches me. I did not realize that I still needed human touch."

She paused for a moment, looking down at their entwined hands, before continuing in a whisper, "And fear. I was so afraid. I was afraid you were going to force me to bed you. I could not have stood that." Arya met his eyes and said, "I need you Eragon. I need to trust you, and that frightens me."

They sat in silence for a time before Eragon gave her a crooked smile and said simply, "I love you, Arya."

Arya started, still not used to hearing such open declarations of affection, as she looked down and replied quietly, "I— I am afraid of you, Eragon."

Eragon laughed. It was not quite the response he had hoped for, but neither was it rejection. Arya's uncertain gaze rose to meet his unwavering one. Ignoring the pain in his ribs, he pulled her to him and embraced her, whispering in her ear, "That's good enough for me."

**A/N: Once again, please excuse any peculiarities in this chapter. I wrote it in the middle of the night. SeleneBrennan found the line from Chuck that I used, but no one has yet guessed where the title is from, so those 2 points are up for grabs. **

**On an unrelated note, have any of you read The Hunger Games? If so, do you find it odd that it's written in first person/present tense? **

**I don't know why I'm asking questions. It really makes no difference if you answer them or not. I think I'm just trying to keep myself awake for the next 45 minutes until I can go home. **

**In conclusion, thank you for reading my story.**

**-Cai**


	14. Chapter 14

Eragon spent the next few days resting and talking with the barrage of people who came to visit him. They all congratulated and thanked him for his willingness to sacrifice himself and Saphira. A few people also offered condolences for the loss of his brother. Of course, that information was not widely available, and the vast majority of the Varden had no idea that he was related to Murtagh.

The one person who almost never left his side was Arya. She departed only to bathe and attend strategy meetings. Once Eragon was well enough to stand, she even stayed to perform the Rimgar with him.

He appreciated her company, but wished she would leave to sleep in her own tent. She had abandoned her chair in favor of sleeping on the floor, but nothing Eragon said could convince her that she would be more comfortable in a bed. Her own bed, that is. He didn't think she would take well the offer to share his own bed, even if all they did was sleep.

Sometimes they sat in silence and other times they talked, not about war or the horrors of the past, but about more pleasant topics. Eragon watched her constantly, memorizing her mannerisms: the way she hid behind a curtain of hair when she became uncomfortable, the faint smile she wore when she thought no one was looking, and the way she always appeared comfortable in her body.

He noticed that she seemed to crave physical contact with him, though he supposed it was the contact she needed, regardless of who was there to offer it. He and Saphira debated about whether or not it was healthy for him to increase how often he spent in physical contact with Arya. They were unsure because it was likely that he would not survive the war, meaning Arya would lose yet another person important to her. On the other hand, life is full of uncertainty regardless of whether or not there is a war.

In the end, they decided it would be best to meet her present needs. Sometimes he held her hand, other times he held her, and still others a casual touch sufficed. However, he did not attempt to kiss her again. He suspected she was far from ready for any sort of sexual relationship.

Being bedridden was an annoyance for him, but it did provide the perfect opportunity for Arya to have his nearly undivided attention. Saphira often became jealous, though she claimed to understand his feelings. Sometimes Eragon would include her in his and Arya's discussions, which seemed to allay some of her feelings of jealousy.

After a few days, Eragon managed to stay out of bed for an entire day. While magic had healed his wounds, the residual effects lingered, causing a deep ache in his chest where his lung had been punctured by his broken ribs. Saphira and Arya helped him get around for the first day, but after that, Eragon spurned their aid. He hated appearing weak, particularly in front of the Varden.

The fourth morning after Eragon was injured, he sat up in the now familiar tent, stretched, and felt no pain. Looking to the ground next to his cot, he discovered that Arya was not there; she must have woken early to bathe and change clothes. He grinned to himself as he gathered his belongings and prepared to move back to his own tent.

_You are awfully pleased with yourself considering you have just woken up,_ Saphira noted, amused at Eragon's good mood.

Eragon did not deign to respond as he exited the tent where he had been staying only to find himself blinded by the brilliant sun reflecting off of Saphira's scales. Reflexively, he dropped his bag of clothes to cover his eyes. This only furthered Saphira's amusement with him, and caused her sides to rumble with laughter and a spurt of flame to snort out of her nose.

Not quite as entertained, Eragon picked up his pack with one hand and shielded his eyes with his other until he could adjust to the bright day. He turned on his heels and walked in the direction of his own tent, pointedly ignoring his dragon and looking forward to a bath. Before today he couldn't have managed on his own, and he wasn't quite comfortable with receiving assistance from Arya.

He threw his bag of clothes into his tent, pausing only to grab a change of clothes and to make certain that nobody had touched his belongings while he was away. When he was convinced everything was in order, he set off to a nearby stream to bathe for the first time since before the battle. He appreciated, not for the first time, that since the deaths of Murtagh and Thorn, the elven spellcasters were more willing to grant him privacy.

Arriving at the stream, he stripped and waded into the middle. It was not as deep as he would have liked, the water only coming to a few inches above his knees, but it was wet and clean, and that was what really mattered. Eragon stayed in the water long enough to scrub himself clean, but clambered out soon after because the stream was not deep or warm enough to stay in for very long.

Eragon stood beside his change of clothes for a few minutes, waiting to dry off. He felt uncomfortable standing there naked, knowing someone could happen upon him at any time, so he threw on his clothes before his body had completely dried, and sauntered back to his tent where he found Saphira and Arya sitting together. He noted that Arya had forgone her usual leather armor in favor of an elven made tunic of a deep purple, and black leggings.

"Good morning," Eragon said brightly to them both, his annoyance at Saphira for the moment, forgotten. "You look nice," this, directed to Arya.

"Good morning! I thank you. You look…clean," Arya responded, sounding confused and ill at ease with his compliment. "Nasuada sent a messenger to us saying that our presence is requested at a strategic planning meeting."

Eragon groaned inwardly at both their lack of comfort in everyday interactions and at the prospect of attending yet another meeting. "When?" he asked, trying to hide his displeasure.

He failed miserably. Arya and Saphira spared a glance of mirth with one another, both noticing his annoyance. _The messenger said to come as soon as you returned, which is now, or technically a minute or so ago that was wasted on exchanging pleasantries, _Saphira projected her thoughts to both of them.

Eragon rolled his eyes while Arya hid a smile. She enjoyed the interactions between the dragon and Rider. Together, they set off in the direction of the meeting. When they arrived, they discovered that the council was present and seated, and the meeting already underway. Saphira stuck her head through her usual hole, and the late arrivals exchanged glances with one another, trying not to laugh as everyone turned to look at them.

Nasuada was forced to halt the meeting to acknowledge their presence. "Saphira, Eragon, Arya, welcome. I would like to congratulate each of you on your performance in the battle. Saphira and Eragon, without you we would not have stood a chance against Murtagh and Thorn. And Arya, without you, our greatest hope would have died. I thank you," Nasuada said, gesturing for Arya and Eragon to take a seat. There was only the slightest edge to her voice that suggested she was annoyed at them for interrupting her meeting.

Eragon turned to Arya as they sat down and smirked. Arya was able to keep a straight face until hearing Saphira's contribution projected to both of them: _She almost sounded sincere, little ones._

To her credit, the elf only let out a small breath of laughter. Unfortunately, this cracked the reserve of both Eragon and Saphira, forcing them to draw on the full extent of their self-control to not burst into laughter. Even so, a small giggle slipped out of Eragon, making him clap a hand over his mouth.

Only Arya and Saphira noticed, but Eragon was mortified. He could not recall ever giggling in his life. His embarrassment did wonders in sobering him up, but it had the opposite effect on the elf and dragon. Arya drew her knees up onto her chair, pressing her forehead against them, her body shaking in silent laughter. Saphira's sides began to rumble, which fortunately were outside of the tent, so while the council members heard the noise they could not identify it.

After a minute or so, Arya and Saphira managed to regain their control and began to pay attention to the meeting. Over the next several hours, the council addressed the Varden's plans for taking Uru'baen. The Varden would rest for the next week before setting off for the capital. The elves and dwarves would join meet them halfway between Dras-Leona and the Uru'baen. This heartened Eragon, as it would be the first time in centuries that the four races of Alagaesia would unite.

Nasuada's parting words struck fear and dread into Eragon, as she said amidst cheers, "We have much left to accomplish, but we have achieved much. Let us celebrate tonight that soon the tyrant king and his army will be brought down by the Varden and our dragon and her Rider!"

Everyone filed out save Eragon and Arya. Saphira withdrew her head, but stayed in mental contact with her Rider. "What is troubling you?" Arya asked. She was unsure what had been said to upset Eragon.

"I can't defeat him," Eragon whispered, his gaze on the ground. "Thorn was no match for Saphira, and surely she can outfly Shruikan, but I couldn't even beat Murtagh. I don't stand a chance against the king."

Arya thought about it, but could not truthfully say she foresaw a different outcome. "We have some time," she responded, "There must be a way, and we will find it."

Eragon appreciated her words, though they held little comfort for him. He smiled at her sadly, before rising and walking out of the tent to joint Saphira.

_She is right, little one. No one is invincible. We will wake Glaedr and consult with him. He will surely not ignore us now that we truly require his aid,_ Saphira said, swinging her neck around to meet Eragon at his eye level.

Eragon breathed in deeply and nodded his assent. He would not give up hope as long as he still had options. From behind, he felt Arya's tentative grasp on the belt of his tunic, which he had come to understand as a sign that she needed his contact. He turned halfway, one arm encircling the elf's waist, and the other reaching to rest his hand on Saphira's snout. Holding Arya tightly to him, he laid his head on hers. So long as he had these two women, he could not be bereft of hope.

**A/N: Sorry that this was a boring chapter. It was more transitional than anything else, but it needed to be written. For the next couple of chapters, I'll probably steal a bunch of stuff from Inheritance. There's no point in rewriting what Paolini did well. Plus, everything with the Rock of Kuthian and the Vault of Souls happened exactly how I thought it would, so I don't know how I could make mine different. **

**Magneseus knew that the title comes from The Naming by Alison Croggon. The quote actually reads, "Sometimes new life is painful: the waking limb burns." **


	15. Chapter 15

**I don't own the Inheritance Cycle. All credit goes to Christopher Paolini.**

**This chapter picks up right where the last one left off. Consider it a continuation of chapter 14, if you will.**

Eragon stood in close proximity to Saphira and Arya until the elf pulled away from his embrace, clearly still not comfortable with being held for long periods of time. He gave an inward sigh, realizing how far they had to go until she would be ready for more intimate contact.

Together, the three of them set off for Eragon's tent to attempt to wake Glaedr. Eragon walked to the center of his tent and spoke the words in the ancient language that would unbury the Eldunari. Though he had done it several times before, he watched in amazement as the golden sphere encased in sackcloth rose from the ground without disturbing the earth. When the dragon's Heart of Hearts reached chest height, Eragon released the magic and caught it.

Still weak from his injuries, he swayed unsteadily at the loss of energy. Saphira, sensing his exhaustion, transferred some of her energy into him. Rejuvenated, he walked to door of his tent, ducking under the tent flap into the bright sunlight. Saphira was looking at him and projecting her concern. "I'm fine, Saphira, just tired. I'll be back to normal in a few days," Eragon said, bristling at how worried she was.

Arya watched the interaction, knowing better than to voice her own concern about how tired Eragon looked. Instead, she turned her attention to the small boulder-sized package Eragon was carrying. She opened her mind and extended it toward the Eldunari, her heart sinking as she discovered that he seemed just as distant as before. She met Eragon's eyes and knew he agreed with her.

_Little ones, do not quit before we have started,_ Saphira chided them both.

Chastised, the elf and Rider shook themselves from their despair and again focused on their goal. Eragon sat the Eldunari on the ground, slipping the covering from it. Rather than remaining static, the different shades of gold swirled, reminding anyone who saw the Eldunari that it had once been a dragon. Not that Saphira, Eragon, or Arya had forgotten. They stared, transfixed at Glaedr's Eldunari for a few moments, feeling the loss of their friends and mentors wash over them anew.

Finally, Saphira stirred, breaking the spell. _What is our plan? _She asked.

Arya glanced at Eragon before replying, "We need to reach him and bring him back from the depths of his mind. He has traveled far in his despair."

Eragon bit his lip and hesitated, afraid of his stupidity, before clarifying, "So you mean we need to reach out our minds and call him back?"

She inclined her head and responded simply, "Yes." Glancing at the dragon and Rider she continued, "Are we ready?"

Eragon nodded and Saphira snorted in assent. _Together then,_ Saphira stated.

As one, they touched the Eldunari and called mentally, "_Glaedr!_"

The defeated dragon heard their summon and the Eldunari flared accordingly, but he could not or would not communicate. The trio faltered and pulled away as overwhelming grief and despair assailed them. Saphira let out a roar of anguish even as Eragon succumbed to tears. Conscious of Arya's presence, he hastily brushed them away and glanced to see if she had noticed. He was ashamed at his own self-absorption as he observed Arya's state.

She had fallen to her knees, head in hands, and was trembling. Feeling another's loss so keenly had triggered a flashback. She was no longer safe in the outskirts of Dras Leona, but rather in the dungeons of Gil'ead when she first experienced what it was truly like to have no desire to live. She lay in her cell, waiting for Durza to return for another bout of torture. Every movement hurt and she wished desperately that they would kill her, but she knew it was hopeless. She couldn't even kill herself because they kept her drugged to prevent her from using magic.

She realized she must have passed out from the pain of her injuries because suddenly, Durza was in her cell, his arms squeezing her tightly. In her semi-conscious state, she didn't know whether it was his intent to exacerbate her injuries or rape her yet again. Either way, she cried out in agony, and lashed out wildly, trying to get him off of her. He yelped, surprised and in pain.

Wait. Durza didn't acknowledge any pain she might deal him. He laughed at her feeble attempts to attack him. She blinked in confusion. The dungeon shifted, and she found herself lying on a grassy ground. She froze as she discovered that someone still had her arms pinned to her sides, and began to struggle violently. No matter how she twisted and thrashed, she couldn't get free, and she stopped fighting and began to sob in frustration and fear.

She slowly became aware that the person imprisoning her in his arms was whispering softly in her ear. Her sobs quieted and as she calmed down, she could make out the words. "Shh…it's okay. Arya, you're safe. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to let you go now," the man's voice said. He released her, but she still felt one of his hands on her cheek.

Arya began to blink slowly, trying to figure out where she was and why the man's voice sounded familiar and safe. "Arya, what color is the grass?" the voice asked.

"Green," she responded, confused.

"Good," he said, with a smile in his voice. "Just like your eyes. What color is my hair?"

Arya blinked a few more times until the man came into focus. "Blonde. No…brown?" she asked, not sure what was happening.

"Right," he said. Now she could see his smile. She reached up and touched the hand that was gently stroking her face, trying to place him. "Do you know who I am?" he asked.

As she looked around and beheld the sapphire dragon standing over her, she suddenly understood what had happened. "_Eragon_," she breathed, sitting up. Somehow she had ended up lying on the ground.

She glanced at him just long enough to see his relief and bloody nose from when she had struck him, before turning her back to him and hiding her face in shame. Not only had she lost her composure in front of him, she had also hit him!

Eragon observed her silently for a few moments. He'd never seen her quite in that state before. Once in her tent he had called her back from memories that intruded her mind her, but that was different somehow. She hadn't hit him, for one, but she also wasn't as hard to reach that night.

_Little one, that was frightening,_ Saphira stated, touching his shoulder with her snout.

He was tempted to laugh at her obvious statement, but refrained for fear of what Arya would think. _Aye_, he responded. He knew he needed to address Arya soon or this incident would undoubtedly destroy the chance of any sort of relationship with her in the future. Unfortunately, he had no idea where to start.

_Healing yourself might be a good place to begin,_ Saphira said dryly.

Eragon had forgotten his bloodied nose in the confusion. He whispered the healing words and bit back a groan as he felt his nose heal. It didn't hurt exactly, but neither was it comfortable. With a glance at his dragon, he closed the distance between himself and the elf and sat down next to her.

Arya didn't acknowledge his presence beside her, though she was aware of it. She was so ashamed and humiliated. Finally he would realize that he couldn't love someone as broken as she was. For some reason that mattered to her, though she couldn't admit to herself what that reason was.

"Arya?" Eragon said, tentatively reaching out to tuck behind her ear the veil of hair she was using as a shield between them, forcing her to look at him.

Her eyes tightened as she saw the dried blood on his face. She reached up and tried futilely to wipe it off. Eragon realized what she was trying to do and grabbed his water skin, offering it to her. He then tore off a small corner of his tunic and handed that to her as well.

Arya took the skin and cloth from him solemnly and poured a measure of the liquid over the fabric. Again, she reached up and began to clean his face. When she was finished, she silently handed back the water skin and set the soiled cloth on the ground.

"I hurt you," Arya said softly, not looking at him.

Eragon didn't understand why it mattered so much to her. She'd hit him, but it wasn't a serious injury. Besides, he knew she hadn't known whom she was hitting. He shrugged and replied, "Not badly. Arya, it wasn't your fault."

She looked at him in confusion, saying, "Eragon, _I_ hit you. Who else could be at fault?"

He replied, "You didn't realize it was me who was holding you. Although, perhaps to you it seemed like I was pinning you down. You were shouting at me and calling me 'Durza'. I would have tried to hurt him too."

"But it was you, not Durza," Arya said, still not understanding.

Eragon argued, "Yes, but you thought –never mind. Please don't blame yourself. If you're really intent on making it up to me, fine. You can make it up to me by not blaming yourself." He stopped talking to wait for a response, but all he received was a noncommittal noise. Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he continued, "What happened? We called Glaedr, but couldn't reach him and then I saw you on your knees with your head in your hands. What happened that sent you back to Gil'ead?

Arya sighed, not wanting to talk about her moment of weakness, but she felt she owed it to Eragon after what she had done. She eyed the grass, searching for the longest strand and when she found it, she picked it and began tying it into knots before she spoke, saying, "It was the despair –the desire to die to escape the pain of living. I remembered the first time I felt it in Gil'ead." She supposed "remembered" was a rather mild term for what had occurred, but she didn't have another word for it.

"So that's when you fell to your knees?" Eragon asked, trying to make sense of the situation. "What made you start fighting and screaming?" he again questioned.

Arya's forehead wrinkled as she attempted to remember. In the moment it had felt so real, but now the details escaped her. She said slowly, "I thought I had passed out from the pain because suddenly, Durza had his arms around me. I had many wounds from torture, so it hurt. I was also afraid he would –use me against my will." Arya still had great difficulty coming to terms with the fact that she had been raped.

Eragon started at her revelation. His head dropped into his hands and he sat, anguished, for some time. Finally he slowly raised his eyes to meet hers and said, "Arya, I cry your pardon. I meant not to force you to relive your torture."

Arya was astonished at his apology. She dropped the grass she had been knotting, reached out and took his hands in hers, and said gently, "Eragon, I do not blame you. If you will not let me blame myself for hurting you, I will not let you feel guilt for causing me to get caught in the past."

He nodded and pretended to rub his eye, discretely trying to wipe away a tear so Arya wouldn't notice. She eyed him sadly and scooted closer. Tentatively, she wrapped her arm around his waist, and looked up at him. He smiled at her in response, and placed his arm around her shoulder, allowing her to lean into him. Saphira hummed in response and lay down next to the pair. All was forgiven.

Glaedr's Eldunari flared again, reacting to the emotions of the beings close by. For the first time since Oromis' death, he was aware of his surroundings.

**A/N: Okay, so I wrote this in the middle of the night. I am exhausted, sick, and not at all sure if this flows well. I appreciate all of your reviews. I'm admitting weakness and letting you know that this time they helped me write a chapter! I included this chapter because maybe I haven't been as explicit with the flashbacks as I could have been, and because Apple Jaxx suggested I talk about them. In the beginning chapters, every time Arya froze or got stuck in the past, she was flashing back, albeit not as dramatically as in this chapter. **

**Work has been crazy. What's the most ridiculous way you've heard of someone trying to commit suicide? That was sort of rhetorical, but I feel fairly confident in saying that I can top them. **


	16. Chapter 16

**Paolini's the owner, not me. **

Late that night, Arya paced outside of Eragon's tent, thankful that Saphira was off hunting. She knew what she was going to do, but was struggling to muster the courage to begin. Arya steeled herself, grasped the edge of the tent flap, and pulled it aside, entering silently. The small space was lit by candlelight, but Arya could see Eragon sitting on his bed reading from Domia abr Wyrda. He glanced up at Arya, smiled, and went back to his reading, before doing a double take and dropping the book on his bed.

"A-Arya!" Eragon spluttered, scrambling to his feet. "What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering, Arya strode forward, stopping in front of Eragon, their toes nearly touching, and kissed him tentatively to gauge his reaction. When he responded enthusiastically, Arya smiled slightly, opened her mouth to him, deepening the kiss, and forced herself to swallow all of her emotions.

She couldn't afford to let herself become emotionally engaged in the situation, or she would not be able to go through with…_it_. Arya realized that if she couldn't face saying the words, then she probably wasn't ready for it, so she brushed aside her embarrassment and allowed herself to think them. She was going to sleep with Eragon.

She shuddered at this admission, which she veiled by bringing her hands up to rest on Eragon's chest, gripping his shirt lightly. Kissing was one thing, but allowing him inside her was something entirely different and…terrifying.

Arya was starting to become frustrated with herself. All they were doing was kissing, and already she was losing her nerve. She wanted to do this tonight, or rather, she had to do this tonight. Someday, with Eragon or another elf, she would be expected to become intimate, and she wanted to get the first time out of the way. Her first consensual time, that is, and given her past experiences, it needed to be on her terms while she was in control. As long as she initiated it, she would be in control and had power over Eragon.

She wasn't sure where her relationship with Eragon was going or how long it would otherwise take them to get to this stage, so it was better to sleep with him now so as to keep her fear of intimacy from looming over them. Slowly, she reached under Eragon's tunic and ran her hands over his smooth chest, surprised at the lack of hair. Weren't human men supposed to have hair on their chests? Perhaps it was something that had been altered during his change during the Agaeti Blodhren. That was something to think about. Anything to keep herself from dwelling on what was to come next.

Up until Arya's hands moved under his tunic, Eragon had been ecstatic, if a bit bewildered. She had kissed him! _She_ had kissed _him_! That was something he certainly hadn't expected, nor had he thought she would deepen the kiss. When her hands slipped under his shirt to caress his chest, he gasped, but didn't pull back.

_Eragon!_ came Saphira's call as she landed outside the tent, returning from her hunting trip.

He decided to ignore her, thinking that nothing could be more important than the way Arya's hands felt as they traced the skin above his waistband.

_Eragon! _again came her cry.

Realizing the dragon wouldn't leave him alone, he responded testily, _What do you want?_

_Can you think of any reason why she would suddenly initiate intimacy?_ Saphira asked levelly.

_No,_ Eragon retorted hotly, expecting to anger his dragon enough to make her leave him alone.

_Neither can I_, Saphira stated simply before withdrawing from Eragon's mind.

_Oh…_Eragon took a few seconds to gather his self-control before pulling away from Arya, holding her at arms length.

Hurt and confusion flickered in her eyes before she withdrew behind her emotionless mask.

"Have I done something wrong?" she asked impassively.

Eragon rubbed the back of his neck and responded bemusedly, "No. It's just –what's changed?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, loathe to give up any of her thoughts.

"_I mean _earlier today you had a flashback and hit me when I tried to hold you, and now you're acting like you –well, like you want to sleep with me. What happened between then and now?" he begged to know.

Arya met his eyes and stated truthfully, "Nothing has changed."

"What's going on?" Eragon demanded, pushing her away, his hand reaching toward his sword. "Who are you?"

For a moment Arya floundered, astounded that he would think she was an imposter. "I assure you I am Arya Drottningu," she stated.

He relaxed a bit, releasing his sword and asked, "Then what the _hell_ is going on?" Eragon's voice was soft but pointed.

Turning, Arya sat on the bed, her legs bent, and placed her head on her knees. "I wanted it to be over," she said cryptically.

Eragon sighed and sat next to her on the bed and asked, "Wanted what to be over?"

"The fear," she whispered, her face still hidden.

"What?" Eragon questioned again, lifting her chin so he could look at her. Arya was impossible to read when he couldn't see her eyes.

"I am so tired of being afraid of every touch –afraid where it might lead. I thought that if I seduced you tonight…" her voice trailed off and she shrugged.

Eragon picked up where Arya left off. "You wouldn't have to worry about it anymore because the hardest part would be over?" he asked, trying to follow her logic.

Arya nodded, eyes cast down, afraid of his judgment. "Don't you think we should have talked about it first?" Eragon asked dryly.

She shook her head emphatically. "No. As long as I knew the plan and you did not, I could feel in control. Talking about it would have made us equals," Arya explained.

Not quite sure how to remedy the situation, particularly because Saphira was still tactfully withdrawn from his mind due to the delicate subject matter, he massaged his still-aching ribs and said, "Okay…we need to talk." Arya just raised her eyebrows in confusion because she thought that was what they had been doing. "I mean about our relationship," Eragon clarified, and then added hurriedly, "Or lack of relationship, or whatever we're doing."

Sighing, Arya said, "Yes. I know." She had been dreading this talk, but she knew it would have to take place at some point.

There was an uncomfortable silence as both people waited for the other to start. Finally, Eragon spoke, yielding to Arya's stubbornness, "You told me once that you and Faolin began to bridge the gap between friends and mates. I would like to do the same with you." He knew bringing up Faolin was a foolish move, but he didn't know how else to phrase it. In a world where marriage didn't exist, courtship was probably equally foreign.

"As a human or as an elf?" Arya asked, watching him intently to discern whether or not he was telling the truth.

Eragon faltered, not at all sure what she meant. At last he said the only thing that made sense, "As a Rider."

"Explain," Arya said, pleased with his answer, but needing to hear more.

Eragon said, "I'm the leader of the Riders, or I will be if we win this war. My duties may sometimes need to come before you. Also, I am uniquely bonded to Saphira, which will alter our relationship. If I'd ever have to choose between the two of you, I would pick her for she is the partner of my heart and mind." He paused to judge her reaction, but when she continued to look at him with an empty gaze he finished, "I love you, Arya. But as much as I care about you, I can't forsake the rest of Alagaesia for you."

Arya smiled. Most females would not appreciate such an answer, but she understood the importance of duty and honor. She responded, "Yes, Eragon. I will agree to become more than friends, less than mates with you, so long as you remember what you just told me."

Eragon breathed a sigh of relief, feeling that they had just had a momentous breakthrough without realizing it was upon them. One more issue needed to be addressed before their discussion could end. "Arya, we need a way to prevent another night like tonight. What are some boundaries we can put in place?" Eragon questioned.

"What do you mean?" Arya asked, confused. Her relationship with Faolin had been completely effortless. They had always been comfortable, emotionally and physically, with one another.

"Well, what's okay and what's not. Like tonight, how was making out?" Eragon asked, attempting to keep the mood light.

Arya bit her lip and replied cautiously, "It was not awful."

For some reason this struck Eragon as funny and he laughed softly, and said. "So no making out yet. What about how we kissed the first time?"

"That was okay," Arya said, smiling at the memory. "It felt nice. I also like when you hold me. It makes me feel safe."

Eragon smiled gently at her admission and replied, "Okay. I like that too. How will we know if the other person is ready for…more?"

Arya thought for a moment and stated definitively, "If ever we are in the situation again, we will both swear in the Ancient Language that we are ready."

Eragon nodded in agreement, pleased at their progress. A thought struck him, and his smile faded. "Arya, what do we tell people?" he asked tentatively.

Without even pausing to consider, she answered, "The truth. We will talk to Nasuada and my mother tomorrow. That will quell any rumors from starting."

Arya waited for his nod of agreement before standing up and walking to the tent flap. "Good night, Eragon," she said.

"Good night, Arya," he said to her retreating back, taken aback by her abrupt departure.

_How did it go, little one?_ Saphira asked, hoping nothing terrible had transpired.

_It was a strange night, Saphira_, he said, and began to tell her what had happened.

**A/N: Weird chapter, I know. It was all about boundaries! Woohoo! It's something that the girls I work with struggle with because many of them haven't been taught what's okay and what's not. I feel like Arya would be one who would go from one extreme to the other (no contact to trying to have sex with someone) for several reasons. One, she's terrified by touch and probably resents the way she can't control her thoughts when someone touches her. That would make her a prime candidate for taking matters into her own hands, consequences be darned! And two, a normal relationship between a male and female has probably never been modeled for her, and would be total guesswork. There was another reason too, but it's escaping me at the moment. **


	17. Chapter 17

**All credit goes to Christopher Paolini.**

Eragon woke the next morning with a tremendous sense of foreboding. After a few seconds he woke up the rest of the way and remembered that he and Arya would talk to Nasuada and Queen Islanzadi about their relationship. He groaned and turned over, hoping to fall back into his waking dreams.

Saphira had other ideas and prodded him mentally, saying, _Good morning, little one. _

_Ughhhh…_ was Eragon's reply.

Allowing her thoughts to be colored with amusement, Saphira said, _It is not so bad. You are only accountable to Nasuada. Arya must tell the queen. Be thankful it is not the other way around._

Eragon groaned again, not especially comforted, but rolled out of bed, knowing Arya would be at his tent soon. He quickly pulled on a clean tunic and leggings over his undergarments, and belted on Brisingr. Covering the few paces to the flap of his tent, he stepped into his boots, and strode over to Saphira. It seemed as if the weather had decided to reflect the ominous feelings churning inside of him, for it was cloudy and a thick fog covered the Varden's camp, the sun not yet high enough to burn it off.

He greeted his elven guard who responded in kind. Saphira was looking at Eragon expectantly, so he dutifully greeted her as well, "Good morning, Saphira."

Saphira's eyes glistened with satisfaction knowing she held the control in their relationship as dragon and Rider. Eragon rolled his eyes, a gesture that was undermined by the rumbling of his stomach. Together they set off to find breakfast.

When they returned several minutes later, Arya was sitting outside of his tent waiting for him. He noticed that she had on a new tunic, or at least one that he'd never seen before. It was a dark green, which brought out her eyes, though Eragon thought informing her of this would not go over particularly well. He walked over to her and pulling her to her feet, embraced her. After a few seconds, he let her pull away and said, "Good morning, Arya."

She returned his greeting in turn and waited for him to speak.

"Uh…are we still going to talk to Nasuada and your –I mean the queen about our…um…us?" Eragon managed to stammer out, completely unsure of himself. He wished he could express himself better in Arya's presence.

Saphira snorted disdainfully at his ineloquence, but Arya flashed them both a grin and replied, "Unless you have any objections."

Eragon's hand passed over his eyes as he answered, "Only if you count pure terror as an acceptable objection."

Arya laughed out loud, surprising both Eragon and Saphira. She responded, "Come, a Dragon Rider who quivers at the thought of informing his liege lord of his relationship?"

Laughing as well, Eragon replied, "It's not so much Nasuada I'm worried about talking to."

"Ahh," Arya began, "So you are afraid of my mother. Take heart, I will be the one who will bear the brunt of her displeasure. What is the worst she can do to you?"

Saphira answered dramatically, saying, _She could sign our death warrant by ordering the elves to join forces with Galbatorix. _

Again, Arya laughed. "True," she replied. "But that, I think, is an unlikely reaction even for her."

Throughout this exchange, the elven guard was listening with interest. Realizing this, Arya again surprised Eragon by addressing them. "Though normally it would not be your right to ask, because of the nature of your duty in protecting Eragon, I shall tell you: we not yet mates, but may become so someday. As you may have discerned from our conversation, we will be talking to Queen Islanzadi today, but until we have done so, please guard your tongues."

When the members of the guard nodded their assent, Arya turned back toward Eragon and they walked in the direction of Nasuada's tent.

Her usual guard stood outside, but the elf and Rider were admitted almost at once. Saphira could not fit inside Nasuada's personal quarters, and thus was forced to wait outside.

Nasuada sat at a desk covered with maps and various documents. She looked up from her reading as the two entered, and gestured for them to sit down. Eragon glanced at Arya, taking his lead from her. When he realized she was not going to be the first to speak, he said, "Nasuada, as my liege lord, you have the right to know, and it's best if you hear it from me first: Arya has given me permission to court her." He used the human term because he didn't know how familiar Nasuada was with elven customs.

Nasuada looked surprised at first, but in an attempt to cover it, glanced down and subconsciously rubbed the scars on her arms, the visible reminder of the Trial of Long Knives. Whatever she had expected, it was not this. After a few moments, she looked Eragon in the eye and clarified, "You are informing me, not asking permission?"

Eragon faltered, losing the small amount of confidence he had. Should he be asking for permission?

_Eragon, you are a Dragon Rider. Though you have pledged loyalty to Nasuada, she does not have the right to control everything about you. A Dragon Rider is not beholden to anyone other than the Order. And because we are the Order, you did not need anyone's permission save mine and Arya's,_ Saphira chided him gently.

Smiling at Saphira's ability to give him strength, he met Nasuada's gaze and replied, "Yes. Though a relationship between Arya and myself may affect the Varden, it will only be indirectly. If you truly deserve to be the Leader of the Varden, you will be able to use this information to your advantage."

At this, Nasuada returned his smile and responded, "You're right, of course." Speaking to both of them, she continued, "It seems I must offer my congratulations. War is a difficult time to begin a relationship, but if you both survive, your love will be stronger for it."

Arya and Eragon gave their thanks, and exited the tent, making their way back to Saphira.

"That went well," Eragon stated obviously. "Are you ready to talk to your mother?"

Hesitating, Arya answered honestly, "No, but delaying will not make it any easier."

Eragon nodded, and they strode purposefully back to Arya's tent where she had a mirror that she used in case her mother had need of her. Once again, Saphira was left outside, though she was able to stick her head partway in through the door so she would be able to see what was happening. Lacking the seating of Nasuada's tent, the elf and Rider sat on the floor of the tent in front of the mirror.

Arya spoke the spell, and when an unfamiliar elf appeared, they exchanged the usual elven greeting before Arya could request her mother. The elf ran off to find her, and Arya looked at Eragon and rolled her eyes, knowing the queen would come on her own time.

Indeed, it was some ten minutes later before the queen appeared in the mirror. She looked at her summoners, but if she was surprised, she hid it well. They ran through the elven greeting until everyone had been properly greeted according to elven customs before everyone fell silent.

Eragon sat silently, feeling helpless for he knew Arya needed to be the one to speak. Eventually, she found her voice and said, "Mother, though you may feel inclined to respond harshly, I beg of you to remember the precipice on which we are perched in this war, where the support of even a few well-trained warriors can make a difference."

Such an introduction caused the queen's eyes to harden, steeling herself for the worst. She nodded and replied, "I will bear that in mind. Please share with me whatever it is you have to say. There is much I must attend to."

Seething, Eragon fought to keep a straight face. No mother should address her daughter like she is a nuisance, and this what Arya had faced for her entire life. It was little wonder she was as guarded as she was.

To her credit, Arya managed to keep her outward appearance calm. She took a deep breath before saying, "Eragon and I have become more –more than friends, though less than mates."

A minute passed before the queen spoke. She responded quietly, but intensely, "I do not condone such a relationship. I think you both forget your duty –Arya, yours to your people, and Eragon, yours to all of Alagaesia. Even if we put aside the war, you are not well matched. Arya, you are an elf, the daughter of the queen, and a century older than Eragon. Eragon, you are still very young, and though you are now a Dragon Rider, for most of your short years you were a human farmer. What do you bring to a relationship with the daughter of the queen of the elves?"

Eragon opened his mouth to speak, though he was unsure of what he would say, but Arya spoke first in a cutting voice that was somehow still polite, "Mother, that is not called for. Eragon is now the leader of the Dragon Riders, and will slay Galbatorix. You asked what he has to offer? He is politically powerful and so long as he is tied to me, he will be tied to the elves. I think that is what you asked, but he has more to offer me. He listens to me, but fights me when he knows I am wrong. He listens to me, but brings me back to the present when I am stuck in the past. He listens to me, but ignores my attempts to push him away. He listens to me."

As Arya intended, the queen understood the implied meaning: He listens to me while you do not. Queen Islanzadi's face quivered, though Eragon didn't know if it was from anger or fighting tears. Her voice was normal, however, when she brought the conversation to an end by saying, "I see. I will not withdraw my support, nor will I banish either of you from my presence, but things cannot continue as they are." She vanished from the mirror, and the mirror once again became merely reflective glass.

_Well, that could have gone better, _Saphira stated, and almost as an afterthought added, _though I suppose it also could have been worse. _

Arya let out a soft laugh, and turned to Eragon. She was surprised to find he was holding back tears. "What is it?" she asked, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

He closed his eyes and said, "I'm sorry. You don't deserve that. A mother shouldn't withhold love from her daughter."

Arya smiled and pulled Eragon down so that his head rested on her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair and bent down to kiss him on the forehead. "Thank you," she whispered.

Eragon returned the smile, savoring the moment of intimacy Arya had initiated. "I love you," he said.

"I know," she responded, and Saphira hummed contentedly.

**A/N: Overall, this was an unimportant chapter, but I hope you'll forgive me as it's Easter weekend and I still have to work. I'm really tired, which accounts for phrases such as "merely a mirror" and other such nonsense. I'm apparently easily entertained tonight. Also, I can't figure out how to write Nasuada, which is why she didn't talk much in this chapter and hasn't appeared in many other chapters. It's a shame, really, because I rather like her character in the series. **

**Happy Easter or Happy Passover if that's more your style!**

**-Cai**


	18. Chapter 18

**All credit belongs to Paolini, particularly the passages from Inheritance_._**

Eventually, Eragon sat up and gave Arya a kiss on the cheek. She smiled as he tucked her hair behind her ears, and when he kissed her on the lips, she pushed him away and laughed. "Come on," she commanded, standing up. "We must again attempt to contact Glaedr."

Eragon just sat, smiling, and watched her until she reached a hand down to pull him up. Together they left Arya's tent and walked out to where Saphira was sitting. _Shall we try again, little ones?_ Saphira asked.

"Your wish is my command," Eragon said playfully, bowing, making Arya laugh.

_You are in rare form today, little one,_ Saphira told him privately.

Giving her a smile, he replied, _I'm happy. She makes me happy. _

_I know. I am happy for you_, Saphira finished before Arya had time to notice their private conversation.

The day was still dreary, but at least the fog had started to dissipate. Thankfully, Eragon's tent was still next to Arya's, so he had only a few steps to walk to reach Glaedr's Eldunari. Eragon retrieved the dragon's Heart of Hearts from its underground hiding place, and returned to his dragon and Arya.

Eragon kneeled down, setting the Eldunari on the ground beside him before he removed the sackcloth. Arya followed suit, sitting down beside him. They stretched out their hands, keeping their fingers from touching the golden orb, to acclimate themselves to Glaedr's state of mind.

They pulled back, surprised to find that he was close, no longer unreachable. Saphira tentatively reached her mind toward Glaedr's and said, _Master?_

_Yes. I am here,_ he replied, his voice full of an aching sadness.

There was a long pause of silence, as no one knew what to say next. There seemed little point in asking how Glaedr was doing because they already knew. He was not okay, and would likely never be completely okay again.

Saphira was the first to recover, saying, _Master, thank you for coming back. We have great need of your wisdom. _

Glaedr took a minute to respond as if speaking was a great effort, but he said, _Speak, I am listening. _

_Master, we cannot defeat Galbatorix. All is lost and our power is insufficient, _Eragon stated, reiterating the words Solembum had spoken to him the year before.

It was like a key unlocked something in Glaedr's mind for he said, _We must go to Doru Araeba to where the great rock lies, hiding the spirits. _

Eragon and Saphira looked at each other, excited. Eragon spoke, clarifying, _You mean the Rock of Kuthian and the Vault of Souls?_

Whatever window had opened in Glaedr's mind closed and he said, _Those names hold power. It resonates in my soul, but I cannot say why or where they might be located. Why have you brought up them up?_

"Indeed, Eragon," Arya said. "I have heard the names sound familiar, but I do not know why."

**[From Inheritance]**

Eragon frowned slightly. Both of them had heard him speak of Soembum's advice before. It was not like either of them to forget.

Nevertheless, Eragon repeated the story of his encounter with Solembum in Teirm, and then he told them about [**Not in Inheritance**] how it seemed likely that it was the same place Glaedr had so recently mentioned.

**[From Inheritance]**

Arya tucked a strand of hair behind one of her pointed ears. Speaking both with her mind and her voice, she said, "And what is the name of this place again?"

"…The Rock of Kuthian," replied Eragon in the same manner. He hesitated for a half second, briefly thrown by her question. "It's a long flight, but—"

-_if Eragon and I leave forthwith—_said Saphira.

"—we can travel there and back—"

_-before the Varden arrive at Uru'baen. This—_

"—is our only chance to go."

_We'll not have the time—_

"—to make the trip later on."

_Where would you be flying to, though?_ Asked Glaedr.

"What…what do you mean?"

_Exactly what I said, _the dragon growled, the field of his mind darkening. _For all your yammering, you've yet to tell us where this mysterious…thing is located._

"I have, though!" said Eragon, bewildered. "It's on Vroengard Island!"

_At last, a straightforward answer…_

A frown creased Arya's brow. "But what would you_ do_ on Vroengard?"

"I don't know!" said Eragon, his temper rising. He debated whether it was worth confronting Glaedr about his remarks; the dragon seemed to be needling Eragon on purpose. "It depends on what we find. Once we're there, we'll try to open the Rock of Kuthian and discover whatever secretes it contains. If it's a trap…" He shrugged. "Then we'll fight."

Arya's expression grew increasingly troubled. "The Rock of Kuthian…The name seems weighted with significance, but I cannot say why; it echoes in my mind like a song I once knew but have since forgotten." She shook her head and put her hands to her temples. "Ah, now it's gone…" She looked up. "Forgive me, what were we speaking of?"

"Going to Vroengard," Eragon said slowly.

"Ah, yes…but for what purpose? You're needed here, Eragon. In any case, nothing of value remains on Vroengard."

_Aye, _said Glaedr._ It is a dead and abandoned place. After the destruction of Doru Araeba, the few of us who had escaped returned to search for anything that might be of use, but the Forsworn had already picked the ruins clean._

Arya nodded. "Whatever put this idea in your head in the first place? I don't understand how you could believe deserting the Varden now, when they're at their must vulnerable, could possibly be wise. And for what? To fly to the far ends of Alagaesia without cause or reason? I had thought better of you…You cannot leave just because you're uncomfortable with [your lot in life], Eragon."

Eragon decoupled his mind from Arya and Glaedr, and signaled to Saphira to do the same. _ They don't remember!...They can't remember!_

_It is magic. Deep magic, like the spell that hides the names of the dragons who betrayed the Riders._

_But you haven't forgotten about the Rock of Kuthian, have you?_

_Of course not, _she said, her mind flashing green with pique. _How could I when we are so closely joined?_

A sense of vertigo gripped Eragon as he considered the implications. _In order to be effective, the spell would have to erase the memories of everyone who knew about the rock in the first place and also the memories of anyone who heard or read about it thereafter. Which means…the whole of Alagaesia is in the thrall of this enchantment. No one can escape its reach._

_Except for us._

_Except for us, _he agreed. _And the werecats._

_And, perhaps, Galbatorix._

Eragon shivered; ...He had to know who was responsible for manipulating the minds of everyone in Alagaesia, and why. If it was Galbatorix, then Eragon feared that the Varden's defeat was inevitable.

_Do you think this was the work of dragons, as was the Banishing of Names_, he asked.

Saphira was slow to answer. _Perhaps. But then there are many powers in Alagaesia. Until we go to Vroengard, we won't know for certain one way or another. _

_If we ever do._

_Aye._

…Despite the speed with which he and Saphira could exchange thoughts, their conversation had lasted long enough for Arya and Glaedr to notice.

"Why have you closed your minds to us?" asked Arya. Her gaze flocked to Saphira. "Is something wrong?"

_You seem perturbed, _Glaedr added.

Eragon stifled a humorless chuckle. "Perhaps because I am." Arya watched with concern as he held his head in his hands. He was silent for a moment as he made the shift from the language of his birth to that of the elves and magic, whereupon he said, "Do you trust Saphira and me?"

The resulting pause was gratifyingly brief.

"I do," replied Arya, also in the ancient language.

_As do I, _ Glaedr likewise said.

_Shall I, or shall you?_ Eragon quickly asked Saphira.

_You want to tell them, so tell them._

Eragon looked up at Arya. Then, still in the ancient language, he said to both her and Glaedr, "Solembum has told me the name of a place, a place on Vroengard, where Saphira and I may find someone or something to help us defeat Galbatorix. However, the name is enchanted. Every time I say the name, you soon forget it." A faint expression of shock appeared on Arya's face. "Do you believe me?"

"I believe you," Arya slowly said.

_I believe that you believe what you are saying, _Glaedr growled. _But that does not necessarily make it so._

"How else can I prove it? You won't remember if I tell you the name or share my memories with you."

…_Will you allow me to examine the memories of your conversation with Solembum?_

"If you want, but…why? You'll only end up forgetting."

_Perhaps. And then again, perhaps not. We shall see. _Addressing Arya, Glaedr said, _Separate your mind from ours, and do not allow Eragon's memories to taint your consciousness._

"As you wish, Glaedr-elda." As Arya spoke, the music of her thoughts grew ever more distant. A moment later, the eerie singing faded to silence.

Then Glaedr returned his attention to Eragon. _Show me, _he commanded.

Ignoring his trepidation, Eragon cast his mind back to when Solembum had first [told him of the Rock of Kuthian and Vault of Souls]. Glaedr's consciousness melded with Eragon's so that the dragon could relive the experiences along with him. It was an unsettling sensation; it felt as if he and the dragon were two images stamped onto the same side of a coin.

When he finished, Glaedr withdrew somewhat from Eragon's mind and then, to Arya, said, _When I have forgotten, if I do, repeat to me the words "Andume and Fironmas at the hill of sorrows, and their flesh like glass." This place on Vroengard…I know of it. Or I once did. It was something of importance, something…_The dragon's thoughts grayed for a second, as it a layer of mist had been blown over the hills and valleys of his being, obscuring them. _Well?_ He demanded, regaining his former brusque attitude. _Why do we tarry? Eragon, show me your memories._

"I already have."

Even as Glaedr's mood turned to disbelief, Arya said, "Glaedr, remember: 'Andume and Fironmas at the hill of sorrows, and their flesh like glass.'"

_How—_Glaedr started, and then he growled with such force, Eragon almost expected to hear the sound out loud. _Argh. I hate spells that interfere with one's memory. They're the worst form of magic, always leading to chaos and confusion. Half the time they seem to end with family members killing one another without realizing it. _

_What does the phrase you used mean?_ Saphira asked.

_Nothing, except to me and Oromis. But that was the point; no on would know of it unless I told them._

Arya sighed, "So the spell is real. I suppose you have to go to Vroengard, then. To ignore something of this importance would be folly. If nothing else, we need to know who the spider is at the center of this web."

_I shall go as well, _said Glaedr. _If someone means to harm you, they may not expect to fight two dragons instead of one. In any event, you will need a guide. Vroengard has become a dangerous place since the destruction of the Riders, and I would not have you fall prey to some forgotten evil. We will leave in the morning. [_He withdrew his mind from their consciousnesses.]

Eragon hesitated as he noticed a strange yearning in Arya's gaze, and he realized that she wanted to accompany them as well. "Saphira will fly faster if she only has to carry one person," he said in a quiet voice.

"I know…Only, I always wanted to visit the home of the Riders."

"I'm sure you will. Someday."

She nodded. "Someday."

[**End Inheritance]**

"Let's go talk to Nasuada. I'm sure we'll need to argue our case to her," Eragon said, realizing that Nasuada would likely be loath to let them leave.

_Aye_, responded Saphira.

The three stood silently, pleased with the day's developments, but nervous about the impending departure.

…

That night, Eragon and Arya lay in the grass, watching the night sky. Saphira had left hours before to hunt before their long journey. The sun had burned off the rest of the fog as well as the majority of the clouds. There was no moon, so the stars seemed to shine brightly, only partially obscured by swirls of white clouds.

Eragon put an arm around Arya, still hesitant in touching her. She smiled, and rolled onto her side, resting her head on his chest and allowed her arm to lie across his torso. Instinctively, Eragon's other arm pulled her close to him.

Arya turned her head up to gaze at Eragon, and he cautiously kissed her gently, briefly, not forcing anything with her. As he pulled back, he opened his eyes and was pleased to find that a smile played across her face, her eyes still closed.

For a time they lay in silence. Finally, Eragon spoke. "Arya, do you believe in eternity?"

Shifting in his arms so she could look at him, she responded, "What do you mean?"

Eragon laughed softly realizing how unclear his question was. "I meant to ask if you think you'll live forever."

Arya was quiet for a long time, trying to come up with an answer. Finally she said, "Almost everyone I love has died, despite their potential for immortality. So, yes. I think I will die someday. Whether it will be in this war or centuries from now, I do not know."

"That was my thought as well," Eragon replied softly, sighing. "What do you want to do after the war?"

"I do not know. What do you want to do?" Arya turned the question back to him, not comfortable with giving him her true answer.

Again, Eragon sighed. "I don't know either," he said. "My home is no longer in Carvahall, but neither is it anywhere else. Angela told me that someday I'd leave Alagaesia forever. Maybe I will. That's my non-answer." He paused and watched her face for her reaction as he finished, "My real answer is that I want to be wherever you are."

Eragon didn't expect a reply from her, but Arya said so softly he wasn't sure if he was meant to hear it, "That is my answer as well."

Emboldened, he spoke the rest of what was on his heart. "I know elves do not practice marriage, but I want you to know that I'm yours for as long as you'll have me. I love you, Arya, and no amount of time passing could change that."

Arya looked at him, a small smile on her face, and reached up to stroke his face, before she lay her head back down on his chest.

They remained like that until Saphira returned and chided them for not being in bed.

**A/N: The stuff in brackets in the excerpts from the story is stuff I changed. The ellipses are parts I skipped in the book. That's all. Have a good weekend!**


	19. Chapter 19

**For the sake of not wasting time, I'm not going to retype these chapters. Assume that all of these took place before the start of my next chapter. Crap. Any references to Nasuada's imprisonment should be ignored. If you don't have a copy of the book, I'll provide a summary. All credit to Paolini, especially these chapters. **

On the wings of a dragon

A crown of ice and snow

Amid the ruins

Snagli for two

The rock of Kuthian

A question of character

The vault of souls

Lacuna, part the first

Lacuna, part the second

Return

War council

A matter of duty


	20. Chapter 20

"Saphira, did Arya seem more…distant than she was before we left?" Eragon asked his dragon.

_Little one, she has had many days to sit and worry about your relationship, as well as having to talk to her mother about it. If you were wise, you would not have let her leave a few minutes ago._

"Barzul," Eragon cursed, and ran after Arya.

Saphira sighed, realizing her saddle was going to remain on her back until Eragon could talk sense into his two-legged-pointy-ears, and flew back to his tent to sleep off the long journey.

"Arya!" Eragon called as he caught up to her.

She turned, a confused expression coloring her face. Hadn't they just said goodbye?

Realizing he needed to explain himself, and hoping she would appreciate the formality, Eragon began, "I beg your apology, Drottningu. I simply realized I had not properly greeted you upon my return," and he walked up to her, intending to give her a hug.

Frowning, Arya stepped back and replied, "Eragon, I do not think I can do this anymore."

"What? Why?" Eragon said without thinking, his heart dropping to his stomach. He realized he should have expected this. Things had been going so well before his journey, and it made sense that she would have a set back and revert to pushing him away.

Her emotionless mask slipping back into place, she answered, "It is madness to begin a relationship now, particularly when we are both people of such importance. The distance has given me time to think. My mother was right: we were not thinking of the good of our people as leaders must do." She stopped talking and watched Eragon to judge his reaction.

"Stop!" Eragon commanded forcefully. "Stop hiding from me!"

Arya allowed confusion to creep back into her face. "Pardon?" she asked.

"I hate it when you do that. You disappear behind your face. It's impossible to know what you're truly saying," he answered.

Arya stilled, and suddenly turned and tried to run, but Eragon, who had learned to recognize the signs, managed to grab her before she could make it anywhere. She struggled in his arms, trying to push him away. "Let me go!" she said, panicked, feeling the walls of the dungeon in Gil'ead begin to close in on her.

Instead, Eragon shifted so that he was no longer holding her back, but instead was embracing her. He spoke softly, telling Arya that it was going to be okay, until he felt her begin to relax. Finally, he let her go, and she stood silently with her eyes closed and her mouth grimacing.

Eragon reached out and gently rested his hand on her shoulder. "What's really going on?" he questioned quietly.

"You left," Arya whispered, her mouth quivering. "You left and I could not stand missing you."

He lifted his hand from her shoulder and stroked her cheek. "It's okay to miss people. It's okay to feel," he informed her.

Anger coursed across her face, her eyes flying open. Eragon's hand fell to his side in surprise. She said, "I am tired of missing people. I am tired of feeling. I hate it! I hate that every time I care about someone, they end up dead! And I truly hate that I am left behind to mourn their loss. I cannot stand to lose another person I love, so I am choosing not to love you!" She finished, and averted her eyes, not comfortable with how much she had revealed to Eragon.

Refusing to respond to her anger, Eragon responded gently, "I too have lost many people I love. I miss them every day, and will grieve their deaths for the rest of my life. I love you so much, Arya. The thought of losing you terrifies me, but I'm not willing to give up a second of my time with you to protect myself for something that may never come to pass. If you die tomorrow, or any day in the future, it might destroy me, but I don't care. I'm with you now."

Arya took a deep, steadying breath before nodding. She moved closer to Eragon and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Eragon pulled her in for a long embrace.

…

Eragon sought out Queen Islanzadi later in the day, hoping to talk with her alone. He found her in her tent, and requested an audience from her guard. Evidently, she agreed because the elves parted to allow him to enter. He found her sitting at a table covered with maps.

Eragon touched two fingers to his lips and began the greeting, _"Atra esterni ono thelduin."_

"_Mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr."_

"_Un du evarinya ono varda,_" he finished. "May I speak freely?" he requested.

Queen Islanzadi smiled without humor and replied, "Somehow I think you will regardless of my answer, but I will not deny you your request."

Eragon took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Saphira would not approve of this visit, and he had withdrawn his consciousness from hers so she would not awaken to stop him. "I love your daughter." He was surprised at how much of a relief it was to admit it to the queen of the elves.

Islandzadi did little more than raise her eyes to the ceiling as if asking what she had done to deserve the young Rider's ability to make everything in her life more complicated.

Eragon continued, "I love her, and I have little respect for the way you have treated her. I can't make you support our relationship, but I can ask you to not interfere. You've hurt Arya many times in her life, and it'll be years before she can fully trust anyone again. Please don't hurt her again. Thank you for your time." He turned to leave.

Before he made it to the door, he was stopped by the queen's voice. She said, "She has never listened to anything I have told her. I doubt very much that I have affected her as much as you seem to believe, but I will not do anything to jeopardize your relationship."

Eragon half-turned and said, "Thank you." As he walked out the door, he muttered, "And you're wrong," leaving Queen Islanzadi to ponder what he meant.


	21. Chapter 21

**All credit to Paolini. **

After his visit to Islanzadi, Eragon went to the kitchen tents to find something to eat for dinner. Saphira was still sleeping, making his head a much quieter place than usual. By the time he was finished eating, the sun had set, darkness enveloping the Varden's camp.

Tomorrow would be the beginning of the end, commencing the final battle between the Varden and the Empire. Eragon shivered at the thought, for he knew that tonight might very well be his last. He started back to where Saphira lay sleeping. He or Saphira could be dead tomorrow, and he intended on spending the night with her.

Inspiration struck him when he caught sight of his sleeping dragon. Instead of walking straight for her, he veered off a few meters from her, and instead approached Arya's tent. Knocking on the support pole, he waited for her to answer his summons.

In a few moments, Arya appeared. She tensed visibly when she saw who had interrupted her evening. Clearly she had been expecting a visit from him, and even more obviously, she was afraid of what he would ask of her.

Eragon smiled openly, attempting to put her at ease. He touched two fingers to his lips in the elven gesture that showed he would not distort the truth during their meeting. "Arya, would you like to spend the night with Saphira and me?" he asked boldly.

As Arya's emotionless mask slipped into place, he thought he must have misspoken. His doubt hardened into certainty at her response, "I am sorry Eragon, but no. My reasons are the same as for why I would not hear your true name. I will not act rashly simply because we teeter on the brink of destruction."

Backtracking, Eragon sputtered, his cheeks growing warm at what she was insinuating. "No! I don't want—I mean…wait. Let me start over. Arya, will you spend the night with Saphira and me, only to sleep, with nothing else expected from you?"

Arya studied him for several long moments as if to determine the extent of the truth he was telling. Finally, she relented and smiled at him, amused at his discomfort. "Alright," she began slowly. "I would like that very much."

He shivered at the amount of vulnerability she showed by telling him that she wanted his company as much as he wanted hers. Silently, he took her hand and they walked over to Saphira's sleeping form. Tapping her on the side, she lifted her wing for them, and they crawled under. As soon as Saphira put her wing back down, she fell back to sleep.

It took elf and Rider several minutes before they were able to get comfortable. Neither undressed partially because Arya wasn't ready for it, but mostly because it is unwise to be unprepared on the cusp of battle. If the Empire attacked, Eragon didn't want to have to fight in his sleepwear.

They lay together in silence for some time, Arya's head settled between his shoulder and neck, her hand resting on his chest. Eragon had one arm under her, holding her close to him, and the other placed gently on her back. He sighed contentedly, breaking the silence.

Arya stirred, and looked up at him. "Eragon?" she began tentatively. "May I ask you a question?"

Preparing himself for the worst, he murmured, "Of course."

"Why do you not have hair on your chest? Do not most human men have hairy chests?" she asked, her eyes still on his.

Eragon laughed in astonishment. That was not the question he had been expecting. Answering, he said embarrassedly, "Well, I don't really know. Sometimes it takes awhile to grow. I guess I'm one of the men who won't get it until I'm older."

Arya nodded that she understood and closed her eyes.

Her question had finally given Eragon the opportunity to ask something that had been plaguing him since he rescued her from the dungeons of Gil'ead. "Arya?" he asked, her eyes opening again. "Your scent, is it natural or do you use magic?"

"My scent?" she repeated, confused.

Eragon shrugged. "Yeah. You always smell like crushed pine needles. It's one of the reasons I sometimes have trouble being coherent around you: your scent is intoxicating."

Stymied, Arya was silent for some time. Eventually, she answered, "I suppose it is both. It was not a conscious decision I made, but my subconscious must have chosen the scent of my home."

"What do you mean?" Eragon asked. Oromis had told him that elves used magic to shape themselves to their ideal form. If Arya hadn't chosen her scent, then did that mean she didn't alter her appearance? He voiced the last question aloud.

Again, Arya paused. "I think," she began slowly. "I have never used a spell to change my appearance. However, elven children imbue everything around them with magic, so my form must be a result of how I wanted to appear when I was a child. Had I taken the time to change myself, I do not think I would have chosen to bear such a resemblance to my mother."

Eragon thought about that for a while. It was true that mother and daughter looked remarkably similar. As a human, he had never considered that strange: children often looked like their parents. Now as he thought about it from an elven perspective, he realized that it was indeed peculiar. Arya and her mother did not get along, and hadn't for a very long time. Wouldn't it have made sense for Arya to distance herself from her mother by making sure she looked nothing like her? In hindsight, it was obvious that Arya didn't share the vanity that marked the rest of her race. She cared less about her appearance than most humans Eragon knew.

Arya spoke again, shaking Eragon from his reverie. "Have you ever considered altering yourself with magic?"

Eragon blushed again. Arya had an incredible talent for asking him the most embarrassing questions. "I've thought about it," he replied. "I've thought about making my muscles bigger and—" he stopped. What he had been about to say wasn't something he could say to a girl, particularly not one who was terrified of intimacy. "Never mind," he said quickly before continuing, "But the transformation I underwent already changed how I look so drastically. Had I changed anything else, I would have been unrecognizable. That's problematic for the figurehead of an army."

Arya smiled. "I am glad you did not change your form. You are a perfect blend of human and elf; a bridge between the two," she informed him. "Besides, I enjoy your appearance."

Eragon laughed, making Arya blush. It was the first time she had ever admitted that she found him attractive. "You're beautiful," he said simply in response. Arya turned her head so her face pressed against his shoulder. She still had trouble accepting compliments. Lifting a hand off her back, Eragon reached up to stroke her cheek.

"Hey," he said, pausing until she met his gaze. "I mean that. You're more precious to me than anything but Saphira, and you deserve to be treated like it. And I'm going to keep telling you until you can accept it."

Arya did not respond. It scared her to hear Eragon tell her how much she meant to him because she didn't understand it. Everything in her life served to counter his words, and yet he seemed so certain. Sighing, she gave up trying to understand, and snuggled against him. Recognizing that it was time to sleep, Eragon closed his eyes, grateful for the way the evening had gone.

**A/N: I had a really sucky week, and I needed a light chapter. I guess some of it was deep, but the majority of it was silly. One question: where do you guys want to see this go? I have a couple of ideas, but nothing set in stone. The battle will loosely follow Paolini's because I didn't have a real problem with it. I guess I'm referring to Eragon and Arya's relationship. Yes. Where do you want to see their relationship go. Now that they're together, I don't care that much. I can do PTSD from any plot. **

**Also, Elemental Dragon Slayer, your reviews are freaking awesome. They always make me laugh.**


	22. Chapter 22

Galbatorix was dead. As Eragon thought back on the battle, he couldn't believe he and the Varden had succeeded. He and Arya had awoken early, roused by a finally rested Saphira. Together the elf and the Rider mounted the dragon and flew to the front of the ranks of the Varden. As the elves prepared to cast the spell to make the Empire's forces to make it appear like Eragon and Saphira were fighting among the Varden, Eragon turned to look at Arya. Speaking both mentally and aloud to Arya and Saphira he said, "Until forever ends?" They responded together affirming, "Always." And so the battle had begun.

Slipping through the streets unseen, Eragon, Arya, Elva, and his elven guard made their way into the castle close while Saphira flew above them carrying the Eldunari. Elva helped them avoid tripping the traps that had been set, sensing the pain they would feel. One trap separated Eragon, Saphira, Arya, and Elva from the guard. Because the separation did not cause pain, Elva had been unable to sense its presence.

As they entered the great hall where Galbatorix and Shruikan were, they had realized that their decoy had been a fruitless attempt to trick the mad king. Galbatorix had known all along where the blue dragon and Rider were. He was standing, awaiting their arrival. Eragon wasn't sure what he had expected the king to look like, but Galbatorix's appearance came as a surprise to him. The king was muscular, but not overly large for a human, and he appeared to be around forty years old. His hair was dark brown, and the straight tresses fell to just above his shoulders. Because the king had been expecting their approach, he managed to cast a spell trapping Elva and Arya so they would not be able to aid Eragon as he fought the king.

Eragon shuddered as he remembered Arya's reaction to being forced into submission against her will. Initially she fought the invisible shackles, but when she realized her attempts would not free her, she had collapsed. Eragon had run to her side to try to rouse her, but she would not respond to his voice or touch, and he remembered the promise he had made to her. He would not place her well-being over that of Alagaesia's. With great trepidation and mental prodding from Saphira, he turned away from Arya and prepared to face Galbatorix.

Drawing Brisingr in response to Galbatorix's drawn sword, Eragon shouted curses at the king. Galbatorix was not cowed by Eragon's yelling, but rather he had seemed to be amused. As they engaged in a fight to the death, Saphira had begun circling Shruikan, trying to discern the best way to defeat him. She stayed in mental contact with Eragon just enough so they could feel one another's intent. Had they been anymore connected, it would have given Galbatorix an opening to take control of their minds. Even despite the light connection between them, Eragon could still sense the horror Saphira felt as she discovered that Shruikan was mad. There would be no way to rehabilitate him, and death would be his only relief.

Eragon was pleased to find that Galbatorix was surprised at his ability with the sword. The king might have been able to best the young Rider, but Eragon knew it would have taken hours before either of them were tired enough to make a fatal mistake. In the end, Galbatorix had ended the battle of swords after twenty minutes in favor of an attack against Eragon's mind. As Eragon fought to strengthen his mental barriers, he found that Galbatorix already knew about the Eldunari they possessed and believed he had the upper hand. This did nothing to give Eragon confidence, so he was on the defensive. Looking back, he could not say exactly how long he simply fought to keep his barriers strong. As Saphira sustained a wound to her front left leg, Eragon was distracted, allowing Galbatorix to slip into his mind.

He forced Eragon to walk over to Arya. Horror had rushed over him when he realized what Galbatorix's intent was. "No!" he had cried falling to the ground, his voice awakening the elf.

"Yes," the king had responded simply. "You will inflict upon her the same torture she suffered at the hand of Durza. You will take her against her will." Galbatorix had commanded Eragon to rape Arya, correctly believing it to be the most painful experience for both of them.

Arya had surprised everyone but Elva. She had regained control of her limbs, and stood. Instead of fighting Eragon like Galbatorix expected, she reached out a hand and pulled Eragon to his feet. Turning to face the king, she straightened herself regally and spoke softly, "Even you who have control over all of Alagaesia do not have the power to destroy love."

With these words and the help of the Eldunari, her true name changed and she broke free from the king's control and launched a mental attack on Galbatorix. The king had scrambled to reform his barriers, but his arrogance had left him vulnerable. Eragon regained control over his body and rushed to where Galbatorix was kneeling on the floor. In an act that would forever be questioned, Eragon had cast a spell that would force Galbatorix to feel all of the hurt he had inflicted on Alagaesia and its creatures.

Eragon watched in horrid fascination as the great king writhed in agony on the floor. After several minutes, he raised his sword and beheaded the king out of pity. Upon the king's death, Shruikan had let out a mighty roar and in anger and pain, lashed out at Saphira. Easily dodging this attack, Saphira had sunk her teeth into the mad dragon's neck, causing severe bleeding. Arya and Eragon quickly rushed to her side and helped to kill the dragon before he was forced to suffer even more pain.

After ascertaining the health of everyone in the room, Eragon had turned to Arya and whispered shamefully, "Can you ever forgive me?"

Smiling slightly, Arya had brushed her hand across his cheek and repeated her oath from that morning, "Always."

Blodhgarm and the other elves finally made their way into the great hall just as Eragon kissed Arya. In respect, they averted their eyes, giving the couple the illusion of privacy. Elva coughed obviously, causing them to jump apart. Upon seeing Blodhgarm and his other guards, Eragon rushed to them and embraced them all. They were not used to such open displays of affection, but accepted it just the same. They received another hug and a whoop of joy from Eragon when he realized they had found the green dragon egg. Another Rider could be created sooner than expected.

The rest of the battle had taken longer to finish. Islanzadi was killed as she singlehandedly attempted to defeat the leader of the Empire's forces who was aided by a concealed Eldunari. Roran had stepped up to continue the duel and almost lost his life as he took Blart's. After the death of their king and their general, the Empire's forces had fallen apart, surrendering to the Varden.

After everything was settled, Eragon had gone to Arya to see how she was doing after receiving the news of her mother's death. True to form, she had accepted it with stoicism, but alone with Eragon, she had admitted that she didn't know how she felt. For so long she had been at odds with her mother. It was hard for her to be genuinely upset at the news of her death. Oddly, it was this lack of emotion that had upset her the most. She felt that she should grieve her death, but didn't know how.

Eragon had just sat and listened. At the end, he suggested that maybe she should mourn the loss of her queen rather than her mother. She thought about it and agreed that it was an interesting idea. After this they lapsed into silence, and Eragon had left soon after to give her the alone time she needed to sort out her feelings.

Soon after, the leaders of the Varden met to choose a new royal head of Alagaesia. Eragon had turned it down as soon as it was offered to him. He knew that it was not his fate to rule as king. Roran had also scoffed at the idea when he heard he was on the list of possible options for king. In the end, it came down to Nasuada and Orrin. Orrin was loath to admit he was not the best option for the crown, but eventually Nasuada was able to soothe his hurt feelings and he relented. And so, Nasuada was to be crowned queen of Alagaesia.

Eragon had gone to bed that night, hopeful for the future. He hadn't sought out Arya's presence because at the meeting, she had still appeared to need time to process the day's events. When he woke, Eragon went to find her. When he was unsuccessful, he approached Nasuada and asked if she knew where Arya was.

Her response made his heart sink. She said, "Eragon…I'm sorry. She's gone," and she handed him a note.

(From Inheritance)

In it, Ayra explained that she needed to accompany her mother's body back to Du Weldenvarden for a proper burial. As for the dragon egg, she wrote:

"_and because Saphira chose you, a human, to be her Rider, it is only right that an elf should be the next Rider, if the dragon within this egg agrees. I wish to give it that chance without delay. Already, it has spent far too long within its shell. Since there are many more eggs elsewhere, I hope you do not believe that I have acted presumptuously or that I have been overly prejudiced in favor of my own race. I consulted with the Eldunari upon this matter, and they agreed with my decision._

_In any event, with both Galbatorix and my mother having passed into the void, I no longer wish to continue as ambassador to the Varden. Rather, I wish to resume my task of ferrying a dragon egg throughout the land, as I did with Saphira's. Of course, an ambassador between our races is still needed. Therefore, Daethedr and I have appointed as my replacement a young elf named Vanir, whom you met during your time in Ellesmera. He has expressed a desire to learn moer about the people of your race, and that seems to me as good a reason as any for him to have the post—so long as he does not prove completely incompetent, that is. _

(End Inheritance)

_I apologize for my abrupt departure. I am needed in Ellesmera and you are needed in Uru'baen, and I could not face a goodbye. _

_With all my love,_

_Arya_

Though he took comfort in the way she signed her letter, when he finished reading it, he dissolved into tears feeling like she finally succeeded in running away from him.

_Oh, little one. _Saphira said to him as she drew her wing around him in comfort.

**A/N: My wholehearted apologies. It took me forever to have the motivation to write this. I couldn't face writing the battle, so instead I wrote it in perfect past tense. I know it's weird. Please forgive me. **


	23. Chapter 23

**The Inheritance Cycle belongs to Christopher Paolini, not me. **

Over the next month or so, Eragon and Saphira flew from one end of Alagaesia to the other spreading the news of Galbatorix's death. It was their duty, given by Nasuada, to determine the extent of the damage Galbatorix had caused. They were to assess who had acted tyrannically under the influence of oaths sworn to the mad king and who had oppressed others solely for their own gain.

It was interesting to see the difference Galbatorix's death had made in the people as a whole. Those who had sworn oaths appeared to wake fully living as though they were half asleep. There was much rejoicing as well as lamenting over his death. Those who were more weak minded did not handle the loss of their sworn oaths well, and often attempted suicide because of their inability to fill that void in their lives. Eragon was distraught over those deaths despite the fact that he had managed to intervene in some cases. He told the despairing that if they traveled to Ilirea (once again the name of the capital), they could join Nasuada's ranks. Saphira found the work to be distasteful. No dragon enjoys the thought of swearing one's life to another. Eragon, despite his oaths of fealty, was inclined to agree with her.

They encountered hostility all throughout the land, but it was especially prevalent in Teirm. The citizens and government had refused to allow Eragon and Saphira to enter the city unless they agreed to grant them an audience via mirror with Nasuada. Reluctantly they had agreed, knowing how busy their new queen was. During the meeting, Eragon was astounded at the forthrightness of their demands. They refused to be appeased unless they were granted the right to secede from Nasuada's rule and to become an independent state like Surda. In the end, Nasuada had no choice but to agree.

As Eragon and Saphira traveled, they searched for a suitable place to set up the new home of the Riders. Though they spanned the entirety of the land, they found no ideal place. Eragon thought constantly about Angela's prophecy. It seemed they would have no choice but to leave Alagaesia in search of a new land. Saphira cautioned him to remain open in his thinking so he would not force himself into fulfilling the prophecy.

Each night Eragon wrote to Arya, sending it to Ellesmera in grass boats much like the one she had constructed the night she had first talked with him about her past. Despite his many letters and the fact that he knew she could find him whenever she wanted, Arya had not contacted him. This filled him with emptiness –a nagging ache within his chest. Not for the first time, he was reminded of what it meant to have a broken heart. Nothing Saphira said eased the pain, but he appreciated her efforts.

The worst part of it all was not knowing what had happened. Arya had claimed to love him and yet left him without talking to him about it first. And why hadn't she contacted him? Eragon thought she was past the need to run from him, but apparently he was wrong. Maybe that need would always exist. Maybe she would always run from him when things became too much for her. He never knew whether to chase her or let her return to him on her own time. At least this time he didn't have a choice but to wait for her to return. He could hardly ask Nasuada for a few weeks leave to travel to Ellesmera when Alagaesia was in turmoil after a one hundred year long war.

As they were flying back to Ilirea after the negotiations in Teirm, Saphira interrupted his musings, saying, _Little one, you will accomplish nothing with your impatience. Can you think of no reason for Arya's silence?_

For a time, Eragon thought on this. "None that make sense. Maybe her mother's death hurt her, but she isn't fickle. If she said she loved me, she meant it and has no intention of taking it back. Nothing I can think of explains her actions."

_Then perhaps there is some piece of the puzzle you are missing. If that is true, no amount of logic will lead you to the answer._

At that Eragon laughed aloud, offending Saphira. Even more to Eragon's amusement was that Saphira refused to listen to his explanation or even talk to him for a quarter of an hour. After she felt she had punished him enough, she opened her mind to her Rider once more, and Eragon hastened to explain.

"It's usually you who like dissecting words and actions and examining them logically. Now you tell me that logic won't help me understand Arya."

Saphira snorted in disdain. _You misunderstand. Using logic is infallible once you know and understand all of the variables involved, which you do not. I'm not telling you to abandon logic, but rather to gather more information before deciding her actions do not make sense. _

"You're very wise," Eragon replied sardonically. "So I can use logic, but not until I know all of the reasons behind Arya's actions? By then I'll already know why she left, leaving no need to attempt to understand why she left!"

Saphira fell silent trying to figure out why Eragon was wrong. When she was unable to find a reason, she conceded that he was partially correct. _In most cases it is easy to see most of the variables involved, which enables us to make educated guesses about why things happen or why people act a certain way. But you are right in part. Logic does have its limits. The reasons only become clear in hindsight._

"So I just need to be patient?" Eragon asked, knowing the answer but needing the affirmation.

_Yes, little one. She'll come back._

"Thank you, Saphira."

By this time, they were in sight of Ilirea. In under an hour, Eragon managed to report to Nasuada and escape to his quarters. He had been given the dragon hold in the highest tower of the castle. Besides the rooms of Galbatorix and Murtagh, there were few other living quarters that had access for a dragon.

Saphira flew them up to their room and he unsaddled her, throwing the supplies on the floor, too worn out to deal with them. He entered his bedroom, and there, floating above his bed, was a grass boat. He grinned, beyond joyful that Arya had not forgotten him.

**Please excuse me! I have reasons for not posting this sooner, but they all amount to excuses. My most fun excuse is that I went to a Ben Fold's concert, which was awesome, but killed all of my time for one weekend. Another excuse is that I'm writing another story (not for fanfiction), and I've been focused on that lately.**

**But yes, I'm sorry. I think there will be two more chapters before I finish this story and retire from writing fanfiction. **


	24. Chapter 24

**Paolini owns the whole world…of Alagaesia, that is.**

Eragon rushed out of his room and jumped on Saphira's back. "Fly, Saphira!" he shouted, clutching Arya's letter in his fist. The letter read:

_Eragon,_

_I deeply apologize for my lack of response to your letters. Please understand that I have much to tell you. If you meet me at the edge of the Hadarac Desert, I promise to explain. I'll be waiting for you._

_-Arya_

Swiftly, Saphira took off, just as eager to reach Arya. She flew for the entire day and by evening, they were able to see the edge of the desert. _Do you see her?_

"Not yet," Eragon answered. "Let's land and try to find her from the ground."

Saphira let out a roar and executed a back flip, which would have unseated Eragon had he not been strapped in to his saddle. He gasped as he beheld the sight that was now in front of him. The green dragon, much smaller than Saphira, and his Rider were flying toward them. "Fly above them, Saphira, until we know their intent!"

He considered that it would be a poor twist of fate to survive the war and killing Galbatorix, only to be killed by the dragon hatchling. Saphira complied and ascended several hundred feet. When they were directly above the green dragon, Eragon looked down and saw the green dragon's Rider waving at him. Curious, Saphira flew closer and to their great surprise, Arya was on the dragon's back, shouting a greeting and waving at them.

"Arya!" Eragon shouted joyfully, but his shout was drowned out by Saphira's roar. Both dragons flew quickly toward the ground and landed next to each other. Arya and Eragon dismounted immediately and stood several feet apart, staring at one another.

Finally, Saphira snorted to get their attention. Embarrassed, Eragon touched two fingers to his lips and began the elven greeting. Arya responded accordingly, and when she was finished, took a deep breath and said, "I have much to tell you, but for now, know that the dragon egg hatched for me on my return trip to Ellesmera. His name is Firnen."

Eragon bowed to the green dragon. "It is an honor to meet you, Firnen. You are indeed a noble representative of your race."

_Arya has told me much of you, Eragon-elda. I am grateful for all you have done for her and am honored to meet you as well._

Saphira snorted once more, this time to get Firnen's attention. The dragons began circling each other before Saphira said in Eragon's mind, _I would like to test him to see if he has the iron in his bones and the fire in his belly to match me._

_Okay…_ Eragon responded, not entirely sure what she meant by that.

Saphira lunged forward and bit Firnen on his front leg. Eragon jumped in surprise and turned to Arya to apologize, but found she was smiling. For everyone to hear, she spoke soothingly to her very confused and frightened dragon. _She wants you to bite her back._

Tentatively, Firnen stepped forward and sank his teeth into Saphira's tail. She roared and Eragon was surprised to find that she was feeling a strong desire that overrode any feelings of pain. The dragons took flight and flew off into the distance, their feelings causing their Riders to blush.

Once the shock of it all wore off, Eragon turned to Arya. "Arya Drottning?" he asked, questioning whether she had chosen to take the elven throne.

With a slight sadness, Arya shook her head slowly. "No. I turned down the offer of the throne. Lord Fiolr is now king. I would have accepted the throne had Firnen not hatched for me, but it would have been wrong for me to be both Rider and queen. My loyalty would have been split, and I could not do that to Firnen. In a single hour, he was one of my greatest friends."

Eragon grinned. "Already you make a good Rider," he said, affirming her decision.

Arya tentatively met his eyes and found that he spoke the truth as he saw it. His approval set relief coursing through her veins. "Thank you," she responded softly. "What do we do now, Master?"

Eragon started at this title. "No," he responded shaking his head. "I'm not your master. There's much I can teach you about being a Rider, but there's much more you can teach me on the rest of the subjects of the world. We are equals."

Arya nodded. "What do we do now, Eragon?" she asked, restating her question.

Sighing, Eragon ran a hand through his wavy, golden brown hair. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "There is no place in Alagaesia where the Riders can make their home, but we can't leave with the land torn apart by war."

"Yes," she responded thoughtfully. "That is a problem. What solutions have you found?"

"Several. I had intended to get the elven queen's permission to alter the pact between the dragons, elves, and humans to include the Urgals and dwarves to ensure peace among all the races of Alagaesia. Now, it seems I must as King Fiolr."

Arya's eyes widened at that prospect. "That is a drastic measure," she said slowly, evenly. "But I can see why you came to that conclusion. I will speak with the king and voice my support of the motion."

Eragon let out a breath of relief. "Thank you. For the rest of the issue, I think we cannot leave Alagaesia to make a home for the Riders for some years. In the meantime, young Riders can split their learning between the dwarves, Urgals, humans, and elves, so they receive a well-rounded education. It's not ideal because the majority of their time will be spent in Ellesmera learning from us, but in this there is no perfect solution."

Again, Arya considered his words before nodding her approval. "I think that is the best you can do at the present time. Though leaving Alagaesia holds little appeal for me, I do think the Riders will eventually have to learn elsewhere, else we face the second destruction of the race of dragons."

"My thoughts exactly," Eragon responded.

As a rush of emotions from their dragons filled them, they turned away from each other, cheeks flaming. Slowly the feelings faded, and Eragon looked up to see Arya staring into the distance, watching the sunset. Wanting desperately to capture the moment, he picked up several palm sized sheets of shale, discarding the two inferior ones. Muttering the words to make a fairth, he created an image of Arya, incorporating all of the elements he knew of her personality. The result was surprising; it was not a masterpiece in terms of craftsmanship, but it was an accurate depiction of everything he knew about her. To him, it showed a woman of great beauty who had suffered much for her people. The demons she faced lurked behind her bright eyes, and her straight back showed her strength. In her smile, he saw the love she bore for him, and he couldn't help smiling down at the fairth. Raising the rock over his head, he threw it, intending to shatter it before Arya could see it, afraid of her reaction.

"Kuasta," Arya said, and the fairth flew into her hands. She looked down at it, her expression inscrutable, until Eragon felt compelled to speak.

"I'm sorry," he said, fumbling for something to say. "I know it isn't very good."

Ignoring his words, she looked at him seriously, considering something. Finally, she spoke. "Eragon, I would like to share with you my true name if you will hear it."

Eragon's breath caught in his chest, as he understood exactly what Arya was offering. "I'll gladly hear it," he said huskily.

She stepped forward and placing her mouth next to her ear, she whispered her name. When she was finished, she stepped back and averted her eyes, afraid of how Eragon would respond.

In her name he heard many things he already knew. Her name spoke of her devotion to her people, the demons she still fought, her fear of forming connections with people, her stubbornness, and her great internal strength. What he had not known was the depth of her love for him, strong enough to rival the bond between her and Firnen.

Wiping away a tear from his eye, Eragon reached out and lifted Arya's chin so she was looking at him. "Your name speaks of your true beauty," he said simply, making her blush. "Will you hear mine now?"

She nodded and he whispered his name in her ear. As he finished, he too stepped back, suddenly understanding the embarrassment Arya felt after sharing so much of herself with him.

Arya grasped his hand and pulled him close to her, releasing his hand only to caress his cheek. "I love you, Eragon," she said. "Your name speaks not of perfection, but of your flawed nature; it is what makes you real. It is what helped me to trust you."

Eragon swallowed and grinned sheepishly. "I love you too," he said as he leaned in to kiss her briefly, allowing his forehead to rest against hers.

After a long moment, he released her and she asked, "Do you understand the weight of what we have done?"

Faltering, he stammered, "I-I…Forgive me, Arya, but I'm unsure."

"We have just shared all of ourselves with one another. This is the greatest act of trust and love an elf can give to another. What lying in bed with another is to humans, this is to elves."

Eragon gulped. "I think I knew that."

"You understand that we are mated?" she asked, pressing the issue.

"Yes," he responded, pulling her into his arms once more. "Does this mean-"

"No," she responded quickly, pushing him away. "I cannot yet let you see and touch all of me." She sat down and wrapped her arms around her knees, shaking. "I'm afraid," she whispered unnecessarily.

Eragon crouched next to her and put an arm around her. "I love you, Arya. I'm more than willing to wait until you're ready."

"But what if I'm never ready?" she asked, anguished, a tear running down her face.

Thinking for a moment, Eragon scooped her up and held her on his lap, her head against his chest. "Think of how far you've already come. Not so long ago, you would not have let me hold you. Now I can kiss you and tell you I love you, and you kiss me back and tell me you love me. That's so much progress. We can do this together. You'll be ready eventually."

She nodded against him and held onto him tightly as they waited for their dragons to return.

**A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry! My other story is now 90 pages single-spaced, but it means that I've not spent time on this story. Thankfully, all I have to write is chapter 25, which will be an epilogue. That should hopefully be written and posted by next week because I'm leaving my job then so I can go to grad school (made possible by a 60% academic scholarship!).**

**Thank you for reading and sorry for the delay! **


	25. Epilogue

**All credit to Paolini.**

Eragon stood on the deck of the largest ship, gazing back at the shore, truly realizing for the first time that he may never lay eyes on his homeland again. Three ships were preparing to raise their anchors and sail off into the unknown in search of a new home for the Riders. Seventy-five years after the war, the races of Alagaesia were now at peace, but still the Riders faced threats from those who did not want to be dominated by the new Order of Riders. There had been several attempts, thankfully not well executed, to destroy the remaining dragon eggs. No longer willing to risk a second demise of the race of dragons, Eragon, Head of the Order, met with the eldest dragon Riders and together they decided it was time to find a new home. Three months later came the day when they were to sail out.

Thinking back to all that had been accomplished throughout the years, Eragon's heart swelled with pride. Since the Urgals and dwarves were included in the pact between humans, elves, and dragons, some of the Urgals' bloodlust had diminished, so it was now possible to form lasting treaties. Ten of the hidden dragon eggs had hatched, and for the first time in history, there were now Riders from all four races of Alagaesia. At first, Eragon had despaired when the human and elven Riders refused to accept the first dwarf and Urgal Rider, but slowly they were able to prove their worth to the Order. The first Urgal Rider and his dragon worked their way up the ranks so that they now served as elders to the Order.

Nasuada, recently deceased, had created a school of magic for all those who were born with the gift. A few elves along with Angela served as teachers, teaching not only magic, but also the ethical ramifications of using their gift. Few magicians who attended the school attempted to misuse their power, and those who did were ostracized from the community. Because of Galbatorix's long and terrible reign, there was no tolerance for tyrants, particularly among those who could use magic.

With the return of the dragons and Riders, the human and especially the elven race had begun to recover some of their splendor that had been lost with the destruction of the dragons. Ellesmera was now once again filled with the laughter of children. Indeed, there were more elven children now than had been born in the past two hundred years combined.

As Eragon felt another's arms close around his chest, he turned to smile at his mate. "Where's Lifavin?" he asked Arya, speaking the name of their son with pride.

"He is exploring the ship. The minute we placed our belongings in our cabin, he ran off. Apart from you, I have never seen a boy so drawn to trouble," Arya replied, rolling her eyes.

Eragon laughed and turned around, drawing Arya into his arms. She smiled up at him and he took the opportunity to place a brief kiss on her lips. Suddenly serious, worry clouding his eyes, he asked, "Are we right to leave?"

Arya placed a hand on his cheek and shook her head. "Do not do this, Eragon. A decision has been made and we cannot go back now. I do not know if it is right for us to leave, but it is necessary."

Nodding gratefully he smiled and held her more tightly. After they had shared their true names many years before, there had been a slight shift in their relationship. Arya had become more committed to Eragon as if before they had shared their true names, she had not truly believed their relationship would work. Slowly they worked through Arya's fear of intimacy and openness until they were one.

One night several years after sharing their true names, Arya had whispered to Eragon that she was ready to try to be with him.

"_Are you sure?" he asked, turning over in their bed to look at her. _

_Hesitantly, she nodded. "I'm ready to try," she promised in the Ancient Language, causing Eragon to remember the deal they had made. Both had to swear in the Ancient Language that they were ready before either would attempt to become intimate with the other. _

"_I'm ready to try as well," he returned, completing their promise. _

_They had been experimenting with what she was able to handle, and gradually she was able to tolerate more and more of Eragon's touch. That she was willing to attempt to have sex with Eragon was a sign of all of the progress she had made._

"_Okay. Um…now?" he asked uncomfortably. _

_Arya smiled up at him. "Of course, Eragon. If not now, when do you think I meant?"_

"_I-I don't know. I just wanted to be sure."_

_He gathered her in his arms and kissed her, deepening the kiss when he met with acceptance. Arya's hands grasped the front of the tunic, pulling him closer to her before wrapping her arms around his neck and running her hands through his hair. _

_Slowly, he sat up, pulling Arya up with him. On her knees in front of him, Arya reached under his tunic and ran her hands over his chest, the feel of her hands causing him to shiver. Eragon raised his arms over his head allowing Arya to rid him of the garment. _

_Bare-chested, Eragon resolved to take his time, not wanting to rush Arya into doing something she was not actually ready for. With a soft kiss, he met her eyes and gently lifted the hem of her tunic. She smiled in response and raised her arms to show him it was okay to continue._

_Her tunic on the floor as well, followed soon after by their leggings, Eragon bit back a gasp at her beauty. It was far from the first time he had seen her without clothes, but tonight there was the promise of more. _

_He lay her down on the bed, covering her with kisses as he ran his hands over her. It took all of his strength to resist reacting to the quiet noises Arya made. She gasped as he ran his thumb along the underside of her breasts, causing him to groan in response. Arya met his eyes and reached up to kiss him._

_Unsure of how long his self-control would hold, Eragon lowered his hand between her legs, slowly withdrawing when he felt her tense. He held her as she fought the memories threatening to take over her mind. A few more attempts of the gentlest touch he could manage, she bit her lip and nodded for him to continue. _

Eragon reflected that their first attempt was far from perfect. It was over quickly, and it took some cajoling for Arya to allow him to hold her afterward. Eragon also had to wake her several hours later when she screamed as she slept, trapped in a nightmare. For many minutes, she struggled to understand that she was no longer in Gilead and that she was safe, and as such, struck out at Eragon whenever he came near. It took another half hour before she would allow him to touch her. But, he thought, in many ways, it was better than perfect because it was finally real. At last, they were mated both as elves and Riders.

Each time they became intimate, Arya's reaction lessened until she was finally able to enjoy it as a woman was meant to. And sixty years later, Arya had looked at Eragon and told him that she wanted a child. He grinned at her in disbelief; it was he who had desired a child for many years, while Arya protested that they were not fit to be parents. He had been thrilled that she finally agreed that they were ready to raise a child.

Two years later, she gave birth to a son whom they named Lifavin, or "Friend of Life" in the Ancient Language. When he was five years old, an orange dragon hatched for him, the son of Saphira and Firnen. Now, as they prepared to leave Alagaesia, their son was ten years old, and a promising young dragon Rider.

Eragon's heart swelled with pride as he stood on the deck of the ship holding Arya in his arms, watching Lifavin run around the deck chasing a cat, while his dragon flew overhead with Saphira and Firnen.

His bond with Saphira, and Arya's with Firnen continued to grow with each day. Never before had Eragon felt such a strong love for so many. This ability to love made him the perfect candidate for the position of Head Rider for those whom he loved could hardly help but love him back.

"Set sail!" came Blodhgarm's shout.

A few dozen elves had made the decision to follow the dragons and Riders to their new home, and offered to serve as protectors of the eggs and Eldunari. When the anchor was raised, Eragon had to adjust his footing as the ship he stood on lurched. The dragons roared their approval, chafing at the delay. Nervousness shot through him as the enormity of the decision they had made set in. No longer could they turn back.

Lifavin ran over to his parents and waved back at those standing on shore. Arya placed a hand on her son's shoulder and leaned into Eragon's side. She too felt pride at all they had accomplished, for despite her royal upbringing, they had had to work for everything they now possessed.

Eragon had been forced to fight for his and Saphira's survival, just as Arya fought to protect the young Rider. They had been willing to give their lives to defeat Galbatorix and rescue the final dragon egg, which had hatched for Arya. They faced countless obstacles in raising the new Order, but they had prevailed.

More personally, Arya felt pride for her relationships she had built. Not so long ago for an elf nearly two centuries old, she was left completely alone in the world with the death of Faolin. It had taken much courage and humility to admit to her feelings for Eragon and to allow him to show his love for her. Now, they had grown close enough to show the ultimate love for one another: they had a child together.

Occasionally, Arya felt herself descending into the terror of the dungeons of Gilead, but she could always trust Firnen or Eragon to help her return to herself. These moments of fear and despair came less and less often as she grew further and further in time from the events of her capture and torture.

Though setting off for a new land where they had nothing but one another was frightening, Arya believed in the strength of the Riders and their dragons, as well as their love for one another.

Eragon looked down at her and smiled. "I love you," he said, kissing her hair.

"I love you too," she replied softly, tightening her hold on him.

**A/N: I'm done! Finally. Thanks for your patience and your support for the past few months. If you have any questions, I'll be glad to answer them, but as of now, let my retirement from FanFiction commence!**


End file.
